Show Me the Money - Chapter 41 – Ox-Horn Mountain

With a marriage contract forcefully done, he married her, and all she could do was comply, and resent him deeply for that and for all the following misunderstandings they faced, and she understood too late she loved him.

But after a life of misfortunes, she’s reborn to the very beginning, the day he told her they were married, and she was determined to cherish him in her second life!

Lin Mu Mu’s life goal is to : grow flowers and plants, and take care of Yun Ting.

Yun Ting’s life principles are : Love Lin Mumu, Love Lin Mumu, Love Lin Mumu!

- Description from Novelupdates

Oliver West never expected his quiet life to turn into a nightmare. The boy who once shared secrets and summer adventures with him has become someone he doesn’t recognize. Keiran Morrison - tall, dangerous, and devastatingly handsome - now uses that same intensity that once made Oliver’s heart flutter to terrorize him instead.Every day at Riverside High is a battle for survival. Every corner could hide a new humiliation. Every moment of peace is just the calm before Keiran’s next storm.But why does Keiran’s hatred burn so bright? What happened to turn childhood love into adult cruelty? And why, despite everything, does Oliver’s heart still race when Keiran gets close - even when he’s terrified?Some mistakes can’t be forgiven. Some wounds run too deep to heal.But sometimes the line between love and hate is thinner than you think.

Jiang Xi, the warden of a mental asylum, transmigrated one day and became a girl from a farming village who had three engagements annulled and hanged herself three times.

Jiang Xi: That’s ridiculous!Jiang Xi was a psychic who could make predictions come true just by talking.

If she claimed that someone’s house would collapse, it would collapse the next day, even if it was structurally sound. In her previous life, her predictions were a little too real for her family.

They were spooked by her abilities and left her at that asylum.

She was unconcerned and adapted to life there like a duck to water. Though she managed to get promoted to warden after much difficulty, she suddenly transmigrated, and everything was suddenly the way it was before.

She studied her leaking house and sighed to herself.

Whatever. She would live life one day at a time, then.

When her mother clumsily ruined the family’s crops, Jiang Xi assured her: They would be fine tomorrow.Her mother wiped her tears and woke up the following day to check on the crops…

only to find that the ruined sprouts were budding! During the dry season, Jiang Xi’s father stared dolefully at the crops that looked like they were going to wither and die.

Jiang Xi simply pursed her lips and said: There will be a downpour soon.Jiang Xi’s father doubted her words.

But three days later, a downpour came, and he looked just like a happy child.Everyone in the village began to call Jiang Xi a lucky star, and the village head was willing to yield his position to her so that she would lead the village to riches. Bachelors proposed to her and came to her house with generous gifts even though they used to scorn her, but a tanned, muscular man with rough facial features stood in their way before they could reach the Jiangs’ house.

Zhao Xiping pointed at Jiang Xi and declared loudly: My wife! Mine!

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.”