The King of Hell's Genius Pampered Wife - Chapter 1782: Selling Her Soul

A man dies and for some mysterious reason is given three wishes.The man, a pervert and even degenerate (just a little), asked to be sent to a world full of sex and lust, just for pure fun, unfortunately he was not very specific and ended up going to a world much bigger than he could imagine.His other wish was the System he read in one of the many stories he read, the System of [The Gamer], which due to various reasons, perhaps due to laziness of the person who created it, the System is not 100% identical.But this didn't affect our protagonist much, who had the opportunity to create his own appearance and decided for nothing less than a hot Futanari with a big dick!

This is a story of a captain of a secluded place and a gorgeous female celebrity—both who would hardly cross paths but a collision in Tibet sets an opening to their encounter.Upon their first encounter, Wenxian already has her eyes set on Captain Lu—her mouth drooling with desire.Wenxian, “Hmm? How can I win over your heart? In a plain sack or using sweet talk?”With a cigarette in his mouth, Lu Xiao scoffs. “You are an impressive and popular celebrity, I am only a captain at this secluded place. I am very poor, what is it in me that you like about?”Wenxian, “I like how you always snub back at me.”Lu Xiao choked and walked away heartlessly. “You are shameless, don’t even dream about it!”The next day, he said, “It’s all because you were carried away by a whim?”Wenxian, “No, hatching a scheme.”

The handsome, skilled newbie livestreamer, Ji Zhiyao, has a dream.

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.”