Grand Ancestral Bloodlines - Chapter 2244 Oddity

“I DO” → “I DIE.”Hours after marrying her longtime crush—icy CEO Nathan Jang—heiress Vanessa Belmont is stabbed, kidnapped, and left to bleed out in a wrecked car. The final insult? Watching Nathan rescue his precious childhood sweetheart (*cough* Vanessa’s killer *cough*) instead of his actual wife. So yeah. Worst. Wedding. Night. EVER.FATE REWINDSReborn six months before her murder, Vanessa upgrades her life with new rules:* Ditch the doormat era. (Badass mode: activated.)* Live for herself. (And okay, fine—revenge.)* Avoid Nathan like he’s the reason she died. (Oh, wait…)TOO BAD NATHAN 2.0 IS OBSESSEDNow he’s everywhere—lingering touches, midnight texts, and panty-melting kisses. Not to mention his hungry gaze—like she’s an all-you-can-eat buffet and he's starving.VANESSA'S SECOND CHANCE PLAN1. Don’t die. (Again.)2. Don’t fall for Nathan. (Too late.)3. Eat more carbs. (Donuts!)As for Nathan? She’ll forgive him when hell freezes over. Or when he takes off his shirt. Whichever comes first.***|***|***|***|***ASH CITY BILLIONAIRESLove is the ultimate power play.***|***|***|***|***

I belong to a good sect that has never turned its back on me for my poor potential, has never forced me to study martial arts, and even helped arrange a betrothal for me when I was young.

Mimizuku, a small girl with chains on her wrists and ankles and the numbers “332” branded onto her forehead, wanders into the Forest of Night seeking to be eaten by a monster. However, when the ruler of the monsters, the mysterious and beautiful “King of Night,” refuses to eat her, she tries to formulate a way to convince him otherwise.

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.”