Fated To Not Just One, But Three - Chapter 63: Hickeys

For Marco, Lucas is his meek little brother. For the rest of the world, he is the menacing Ghost of Vermil.“Angels endow blessings. Demons sow curses.” A hundred years ago, angels and demons descended on earth. It is said they are still here.Annointed with potent holy power, Marco is set to join the Kingdom's Holy Army to fight off the demonic legion. But before that, he must confront the trail of blood and ash that points to Lucas's involvement with the dark side.As mysteries unfold and loyalties fracture, Marco is faced with the question: where does holiness end and damnation begin? If all lines are blurred and the fate of humanity is at stake, will he have enough resolve to strike down the brother he once swore to protect?

I was transported into the romantic fantasy novel my younger sister was reading, not as the male lead but as the second male lead. If I remember correctly, this punk is fated to go into war in the future and die in the male lead’s place.

Okay, I’ve made up my mind. Let’s not go anywhere near the main characters and stay healthy until I can go home.

Dear readers! Fresh green style, maybe you will like it more in .

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.”

One morning, Gu Tiantian wakes up to find her innocence gone—and her temper flaring.Every time she glares at him, cheeks flushed with outrage, Bai Chenyao cocks an eyebrow.“You don’t want this?” he asks, voice cool.“I never did!” she snaps.His only rule: her consent is optional; his desire is not.Cue Gu Tiantian’s inner scream: Then why even ask, you iceberg?!PS:A genius CEO with zero EQ VS. a lovable, scatter-brained clerk.He thinks courtship is a hostile takeover; she thinks love shouldn’t come with fine print.Sparks fly, clothes vanish, and the “free pie” she never ordered keeps biting back—hilariously, endlessly, deliciously.