Guide To Reign My Tycoon Husbands - Chapter 6: Ungrateful Leech

[Fishing novel, light-hearted daily life, welcome everyone to enjoy reading]Chu Mingcheng, who was nearly thirty, encountered workplace PUA. Working overtime not only meant no extra pay, but also his date for a prearranged blind date had run off.Returning to his coastal hometown to clear his mind, he unexpectedly discovered a mountain of mud shrimp on the beach and accidentally awakened a “Golden Finger.”[Currently unlocked methods of capture: Hand, Fishing Rod][Mud Shrimp, also known as Mantis Shrimp (Level 18)][Current Experience: 0/190][Size +19%][Deliciousness +19%][Capture Probability +19%]...“Go to work? That's just wasting my life.”“Date me? Beauty, I only fish, I don't raise fish!”Conquering the ocean, fishing for crocodiles, venturing into the Amazon; wherever there's water, there's the figure of Chu Mingcheng.

Everyone in the City of Jing thinks that bestowment of marriage between Xian Junwang and the daughter of the Yi’an Marquis House is to insert a fresh flower into manure.

“I'll take this child.” Sold to the Wudang Sect's outer martial arts training hall for three silver coins at a young age, Kwak Yeon dreams of mastering supreme martial arts. But can he overcome the needle-sized gateway barely permitted to trainee instructors and rise to become a disciple of the main sect? “A true gentleman cannot stand idle in the face of injustice!” Thus begins Kwak Yeon's unyielding journey through the martial world, following the ruthless principle of “Kill Buddha, Kill Ancestors”—destroying all obstacles in his path!

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.”