Fantasy: God-level Store Manager - Chapter 83: Getting acquainted

19 years old Davi, married a stranger whom she never seen at all to save her little brother. Until she found herself being bound with a certain mission. Her mission is to seduce her stone cold husband who is never romantically interested in any human being and bear his child. ____ Current Editors/proofreaders: kraycee, lov3lamb, iamconi789 Donations: https://www.paypal.me/kazzenlx

“Live the life you want this time.”

A peerless assassin, codename: Hua, has already started her career ever since she was a child. Her mission’s record was perfect and whoever deemed to be her enemies would end up dead without knowing why.

When war ended, she was sent to an institution where she was watched heavily. The doctor in charge gave her an ordinary wuxia novel to read.

An avalanche struck after she had finished reading.

When she woke up, she had turned into Nan Hua, the young miss

At the beginning, he acquired a piece of land worth billions, but Su Ming used it to cultivate crops!Row after row of cucumbers, plant after plant of chili peppers, shoot after shoot of bamboo shoots… …Everyone couldn’t understand: “Having a billion-dollar land and using it for farming? Su Ming, what’s wrong with you?”Yet, Su Ming just smiled mysteriously.Do you really think, naively, that the cucumbers I grow are just ordinary cucumbers?The joy I find in farming is something you can never imagine!

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”