Re:Monster - Day 341-350

Going for a swim, she ends up in an ancient wild Beast World and ends up being brought home by a handsome wolf.

Abigail’s only crime in life was being born as the mute daughter of the deceptive maid, who drugged her boss and got pregnant for him… or so she thought.All her life she had to serve her stepsister, Genevieve, attending to her every whim. While Genevieve used every opportunity she got to make Abigail’s life hell, even to the point of seducing Abigail’s boyfriend.On the night she resumes college, Abigail crosses path with Jamal Jonas, a heartbroken elusive billionaire, who leaves behind a stuffed animal that belonged to his first love. Abigail keeps the stuffed animal, which stirs her long lost memories.Five years later, Jamal shows up again, but this time as Genevieve's new live-in driver.Working for Genevieve quickly places him near the supposedly mute and intelligent Abigail who he doesn’t immediately recognize, and soon enough, Jamal finds himself pulled in by Abigail's charms.Jamal quickly realizes there is more to her than meets the eye, and there might be more connecting Abigail to his first love than Genevieve.

The overhead of the Tang Dynasty, the story of capturing the spirits.

“The stones on the other mountains are hard enough to carve and polish jade”.

To Prince Cheng, Lin Chengyou, Teng Yuyi is the piece of “jade” that he can not capture.

The proud son of the heavens is on the road to chase his wife to death.

- 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.”