Immortal Venerable of the Beast Race - Chapter 37 - Qi Refinement Level 8_1

Su Chen, a doctor from a mountain village, treated a patient and was rewarded with a stunning wife! He hit the jackpot with this one!

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

All Things of this World, Turn to Ashes, Flowing Blade-like Flame!

“When everyone scorned me because I was merely a woman, I kept convincing myself: ‘Actually, you can give it a try.’” – Fang Feng Sheng

…

There was a famous saying in officialdom: there is no yamen without Shaoxing.

She was the only descendant of the Fang family, the most prominent family of private advisors in Shaoxing.

A calamity broke the Fang family apart. Her father was implicated and put to death, and she cut her way through thistles and thorns to prove her name.

However, walking down this path, she discovered that there were things beyond her imagination.

~ ~

Zong Yue knows that he could marry Fang Feng Sheng because he had blocked all her paths of retreat. But it doesn’t matter—one day, the person will become his, and so will her heart.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”