Starting Cultivation During a Trip - Chapter 213 - 136: Revisiting the Old Place! The Zhang Family’s Old Mansion’s Secret (5k-Word Major - ) (Part 2)

Victoria Monroe worked hard for three years during their hidden marriage to get pregnant, and she finally was, only to discover that he had a child with someone else.She proposed a divorce but was refused, and when she attempted to return to work, she found numerous obstacles.It turned out that this marriage was something he had planned for a long time, using the bond of marriage to cage her, clipping her wings and imprisoning her by his side.Sickly and obsessive, he whispered in her ear, “Victoria, no one else in this world loves you more than I do, don't even think about escaping!”But he was unaware that his beloved wife was already pregnant with his child.On a stormy night, as he rushed towards the child in the mistress's womb, blood soaked beneath Victoria Monroe.Eighteen years of affection were buried here, and she was utterly disheartened, leaving decisively.Later, at the engagement banquet of The Portoros Circle's Crown Prince, he finally found his little rose.Victoria Monroe, dressed in a magnificent gown, stunning beyond compare, was hailed as the Portoros Circle's Crown Prince, who knelt on one knee, reverently and restrainedly kissing the back of her hand.The always noble President Fordham was red-eyed and went mad...

In this world, laws are nothing but chains for the weak.The rich buy innocence. The powerful twist the truth.Justice? It was sold long ago to businessmen and politicians.He was no one. Shy, awkward, powerless. The kind of man people ignored.Until one day… a god descended.The forgotten God of Justice chose him as vessel.Chains of light tore through the darkness, dragging the guilty to their knees.And then, in his mind, glowing words appeared—[Justice Avatar System Activated][Skill Unlocked: Chain of Justice — Binding]Effect: No corrupt soul may escape once bound.From that day on, criminals trembled.The rich cried out. The politicians tried to resist.But when the chains fell, even their power meant nothing.The world called him a monster.The people whispered another name—“The Underworld Judge.”But he only said one thing:“I am the law. I am the verdict. I am justice.”

Gu Zuo: Are you sick?

Gongyi Tianheng: You have medicine?

Gu Zuo: You’re sick!

Gongyi Tianheng: If I say I’m sick, can you cure me?

Gu Zuo: If I say I have medicine, would you want it?

Gongyi Tianheng: However much you have is how much I want.

Gu Zuo: However much you want is how much I have.

Gongyi Tianheng: Then bring it all out.

Gu Zuo: …

Simply speaking, a scaredy-cat shou transmigrated and had to think of a way to survive. He had a golden finger called Medicine Refining System, but unfortunately, he didn’t have the ingredients needed to refine medicine and level up.

A great young master to an empire’s preeminent clan had a super high IQ, but his potential for cultivation was low. Unfortunately, pill refiners were too hard to develop, and weren’t restricted to his personal service. But he could acquire plenty of ingredients.

Two people, one was sick and one had medicine. Therefore, the one who was sick kept the one who had medicine, and everyone was happy.

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.”