Wortenia Senki (WN) - Volume 1 Chapter 18 - (Escape) 3

Life is unpredictable. Her husband loved her stepsister, deposed her as Empress and even forced her son to death. In that Cold Palace, she was forced to drink poisonous wine. So in the next lifetime, she made a promise to never do good deeds and help others, to never step into the palace and to never become the Empress!

One day, after five years of living in the shadow of the popular actor—Mo Boyuan, Dr. Jiang suddenly decided that she had enough!

When you grow up, you’re mine.

~~~

Lu Feng, with her fiery character and short temper, only had one fatal weakness. That was the lukewarm and soft Xu Mu.

There were so many youths in the capital, yet she took fancy to none of them. She instead sought after her newly arrived neighbor’s sweetie and secretly planned to kidnap him home.

Until one day, the two became cousins…

Lu Feng: … That nutrient-rich water cannot flow into someone else’s field!

Xu Mu: =v=

~~~

Xu Mu: What am I to you?

Lu Feng: You are my sweetest candied fruit!

~~~

In their previous life, Xu Mu and Lu Feng were married for only half a year when she died in battle. Xu Mu couldn’t bear the news of her death and followed her three days later.

Who knew that after he died, time flowed backward and returned him to their childhood. Xu Mu sat on his bed, dazed. In this life, he needed to think of a way to first find his wife, then chase her with all his strength. Only until he made up their past life to her would he “leave”.

Xu Mu: Last life, I didn’t love you enough. This life, I want to love you even more. Starting from innocent little childhood friends to the grey-haired and weak elderly, I will not let you go.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”