Stolen Identity: Mute Heiress - Chapter 125: Crossing Lines

After the divorce, Gao Jun discovered that the persona of the wealthy single lady had collapsed.“Madam, please stop confessing your feelings to me,” he said.“You know I'm not someone who takes things lightly.”

Sunless once wondered why the stars shone so brightly, despite being far out of reach. There was a scientific explanation out there, but he didn’t care about that. If the world wanted to spite him, he’d spite the world back.Sunny will reach for the stars, grasp them, and crush them, drowning the universe with a lightless sky.

Lynn embarks on a fantastical journey to a realm reminiscent of medieval Europe, yet infused with extraordinary magical abilities. Here, the very fabric of reality is governed by the enigmatic theory of magic, which harnesses and manipulates fundamental particles.

In this world, wizards, who are essentially scientific spell casters, find themselves locked in a relentless battle against the oppressive Church.

However, when Lynn arrives, a harbinger of an otherworldly Renaissance, the tides of change are set in motion, unveiling a thrilling tale of discovery, intrigue, and the struggle for enlightenment.

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.”