The Luckiest Dumb Doctor - Chapter 684 - Unable to Take Down for a Long Time_1

She was born into a powerful family of the nobility, a blue-blooded aristocrat as capable as any man. He rose from humble origins up the military ranks, an iron-blooded knight with high ambitions. A transaction for power severed her from her childhood sweetheart. A tardy encounter was the beginning of his and her vow to meet life and death under heaven, standing shoulder to shoulder.

Political intrigue, dynastic succession struggles. He trampled through it all in the toil of becoming emperor.

Old enmities became new disputes, concerning life and death of entire families. She entered once more into the palace, changing the entire political climate of their world.

Meeting once again, they had become strangers. The peach blossom were all fallen, no more than a golden age grown cold.

- Description from Novelupdates

When I woke up, I had been reborn as a baby. My mother passed away and I was neglected by my father. Even though I was born in a Marquis family, my life started on a HARD MODE. But I won’t be discouraged. I will eat well, sleep well, move much, get whatever I can get and live happily.

This work portrays the perspective of Yuhanna, a masochist, as she falls into a state lower than livestock, ultimately becoming a mere human toilet.This is an extremely dark and hardcore explicit story.It delves into almost all hardcore genres feasible in a modern setting, excluding fantastical elements.Hardcore | Dark | Masochist | Submission |Incest| SM | R18 | SMUT

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.”