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... ars ago, he looked at the phrase "who she is" that she said to others, it was already bad enough, but did not expect to meet again two years later, even worse.

After Qin Hao love stood on the railing of the second floor, she was always staring at the back of Gu Yusheng, but she did not see how he came out.

She clearly felt that her chest was a little stuffy, her heart became very heavy, and every time she jumped, she felt a pain in her body that could not move.

When Qin Yu l ...

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“You mean that Prince Yu wants to marry me?”

“Exactly, young master, Prince Yu wants to marry you!”

“Hell no! Is he out of his mind? Even if woman is a rare species nowadays, as the prince, he could have a chance to marry one. Is it because he got excluded, or maybe he has sexual impotence, so he could only marry a man?”

“No, Prince Yu is charming, majestic, endowed with civil and martial virtues, and also in perfect health.”

“Then why would he marry me?”

“Maybe because of your reputation out there.”

“Reputation? Am I quite famous?”

“Of course. Young master, you’re far-famed.”

“Really? What did they say about me?”

“They said you are ugly, good-for-nothing, short-lived, a freak, with no morals, and shameless…”

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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.”