Pampered by the Billionaire - Chapter 1029 - 689: Extra: Every Step Strikes the Heart (4)

Rong Zhi was switched at birth and lived in the countryside for eighteen years, her family was poor, and she dropped out of high school to work.At eighteen, her biological parents came to her door, saying she was the daughter of the Rong Family in Beijing and came to take her back to Beijing.Above her were uncles watching over the family inheritance, below were biological siblings.She was warned by her parents: Learn the rules from your brothers and sisters, don't cause trouble, the Rong Family can't afford to lose face because of you.Rong Zhi brushed aside the bangs on her forehead, smiling brightly: “Okay.”Everyone was waiting to see the joke of this ignorant and unsuccessful Third Young Master Rong, but as they watched, she became the Crown Prince who had the final say in Beijing.Everyone: This doesn't quite match what we were told??The Bai Family Head returned to the country, and all the noble families in Beijing were on high alert, except for that carefree member of the Rong Family.One day at a banquet, everyone saw Mr. Bai, standing at the top of the pyramid, bend down, holding a pair of high heels in his hand, speaking helplessly: “Such a princess.”Looking again at the long-haired woman in a dark green cheongsam standing in front of him, barefoot on his shoes, “I am a princess, and it's none of your business.”This familiar face, this familiar arrogant tone...Everyone was stunned, their eyes open wide in disbelief: Third Master Rong?!【Front-stage female disguised as male + slight sci-fi + no logic + feel-good novel + 1v1 single couple】

He was supposed to die in the academy dungeon.Instead, Earth’s greatest war hero opens his eyes as Velorum’s most hated student—the “villain” everyone expects to be executed by midterms.Swordsmen duel, mages burn, saints bless, tamers command beasts. He, unfortunately, practices the one art people fear most: necromancy. He doesn’t want a throne or revenge; after a lifetime of medals and funerals, he wants something scandalous for a villain—to live well. To laugh after curfew, to taste street food, to keep the friends who chose him alive.But the church wants a heretic, the crown wants a scapegoat, and the academy’s golden hero can’t explain why the “villain” keeps winning.Call him monster, call him traitor—he’ll carve out a life worth living, and smile while he does it.

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.”