Return of the Swallow - Chapter 560.2: Control

Food blogger, Qin Zhenzhen, transmigrated into a novel and became a young chubby girl who forcibly married a handsome guy. The handsome guy was truly attractive, but he was the villain in the novel. He was sinister and vicious, and everyone in his family was cannon fodder.She couldn't afford to mess with him. With that in mind, she hurriedly approached him and asked for a divorce.The handsome man narrowed his eyes. “Do you want a peaceful divorce? Fat chance!”Since a peaceful divorce was impossible, she'd have to change the storyline.At first, she thought this was going to be a difficult journey with many obstacles. However, it turned out to be a smooth ride, and she unexpectedly became pampered by everyone around her.People were born kind. The supposed villain, who didn't experience all those terrible things in the novel, could actually have a positive outlook in life.“I'm capable of getting rid of all feelings of jealousy and dissatisfaction. I can also lead a family to the path of wealth. Meanwhile, I also managed to conquer a man who only wanted to take revenge on me from the very beginning,” the female lead said.“I'm all about scheming and strategies. Anyone who messes with me will die, and anyone who bullies me will also die. As for the woman who both messed with me and bullied me, I'll punish her by making her stay with me for the rest of our lives,” the male lead said.

In a morgue filled with the bodies of Uchiha clan members, he opened his eyes...A mysterious voice echoed in his ears...With a bewildered expression, he muttered, “Save the Shinobi world? What does that have to do with me, a mere Uchiha survivor?”

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.”