MTL - The Big Brother’s Daughter Has Become the Favorite of the Wealthy Group - Chapter 50 Afraid that the host ran away with her two years of free meals

Traveling to a different world, a bizarre, mysterious and vast world unfolds in front of Zhao Ji. He wants to run hard in this vast world and live a free and easy life.

- Description from novelbuddy

A petite and frail woman came to Donggong, and Chumei in Donggong didn’t take this abandoned woman seriously at first.

Who would have thought that she would occasionally feel the cold today, and she would be ill tomorrow, attracting His Royal Highness to take care of her day and night.

She took care of her, and took care of people on the couch, so angry that Zhongmei called her a shameless white lotus.

As the party concerned, Qin Zhao said: My ex-husband greened me, I turned around and hooked up with the prince of the dynasty, and robbed the prospective man of the third child. The first marriage is higher than the first marriage, is there any problem?

**

The crown prince Xiao Ce had few desires for half his life until he met Qin Zhao.

He thought Qin Zhao was pitiful and would not be able to live without him, so he let her live in the East Palace temporarily, day and night to keep her pampered.

Later, when he ascended the throne, every time he saw Qin Zhao’s ex-husband’s face, he would torture Qin Zhao’s soul every night: “Is my body still satisfactory to Zhaozhao?”

【Wear the book, double clean, sweet pet】

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”