Master Fu's Beloved Petite Wife Is Calling for Divorce Again - Chapter 84End - The Mastermind

I'm captured? Fine, I can't help it since I can't move.Experimented on? At least give me some anaesthetic.I'm freed? Let me get some revenge.Want to plead for your life? Sorry, this miss here holds a grudge.I destroyed the lab so now let me explore this world freely.I somehow joined Mr Hero's party. Fine, he seems fun."Aiya, how cruel. For the honour of being a hero you'd kill this missy huh?" She smiled whilst bleeding out."Che, you still have the mind to joke right now?" He said with a glare."What is life if not to enjoy every moment? Since I'm going to die and I can't avenge myself, I hope someone else does.""No one will. You were the only one who was more powerful than I with your Nanomancy. Now with you out of th-""Hush child. I'm trying to die in peace here.""But I'm ol-!""Ap! Good children don't disturb their elders.""But yo-!""Bye~" She grinned before losing strength."FUCK!"…Why am I sleeping in the snowfields?Mr Wolves are growling at me. Hungry huh?... Me too.This is my second book please have mercy on this author. Enjoy.Cover was drawn by the amazing Aoi OgataNanomancer=A mage that uses nanobotsIf you want to support me:Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/AuthorReiliDiscord Server: https://discord.gg/eFYFYcwInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorreili/

I was transmigrated into a webtoon based on an alternate history of a shitty empire.‘I will overthrow this country with my own hands.’And the answer I arrived at upon experiencing it was ‘Coup D’état’.

This is a story of Xia An, a transmigrator from the end of the world, who transmigrates into the body of a cannon fodder who was the mother of the villain.

- Description from Wattpad

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.”