Bloodline is Everything - Chapter 82

The ancient Divine Beast Susu descended to endure trials and became the youngest daughter of the Qin Family, who were nearing eighty years old; young in age but high in seniority, even the men in their twenties had to call her auntie.Susu was also the only girl in three generations of the Qin Family, cherished by her parents, doted on by her brothers, and her nephews would fight over holding their auntie and protecting her.Protect her? Susu said she didn't need it, for she was a mighty and ferocious Divine Beast!With her around, no one would dare to bully the Qin Family members!Those who bullied her family got sent flying; those who coveted their fortune got sent flying; those who tried to kidnap her got sent flying.The kidnappers who captured Susu were frightened by her and willingly handed over their cell phones for her to call the police.“How do I unlock the cell phone?” Susu asked.“It requires fingerprint unlocking, you can use my finger,” explained the kidnapper.“How do I use your finger? Chop it off?” Susu asked again.“No! No need to chop, it can be used while still attached to my hand!” the kidnapper wailed.Chop off a finger! What kind of thought process was that?Way too scary!Ever since the lucky-buff-carrying Susu had come to their home, the family's luck had improved, their business prospered more each day, and the previously naughty young masters had become much better behaved, truly a little lucky star.It was just that boy from the neighbor's house, who kept thinking about kidnapping Little Susu, causing the Qin Family men quite a bit of concern.Maybe they should just break his leg again?

The night before we obtained our marriage certificate, I asked him, “When did you start to develop feelings for me?”

He answered, “I don’t remember.”

“But, why me?”

“Why not you?”

“I’m very petty, and I get jealous very easily.”

“So am I.”

“I’m afraid I’m not worthy of you.”

“So am I.”

“I haven’t really dated, so I don’t know what love is.”

“I don’t know either.”

He held my hand gently, “But I know this. When I think about spending the rest of my life with you, I feel that my future is filled with hope.”

At 16, we used the same class desk, with less than 10cm between our arms. My peripheral vision was full of him.

At 26, I woke up in the morning, and saw the sunlight softly shining on his face. I thought, this is how I want to grow old – gradually, together, with him.

I guess this must be love.

The biggest mistake of Alicia's life, was trying to commit suicide.

She found herself in the body of a 19 years old princess in exile, in the middle ages.

What's more? She was forced to marry Prince Harold; the infamous white-haired hot tempered Prince who wouldn't mind killing someone for the most irrelevant reason.

Now, her wedding is only a few hours from now and the 'princess', which happens to be Alicia, is supposed to display some 'princessly' skills to the guest.

Quick question: Is twerking allowed in the middle ages?

She knew one thing for sure, the wedding was going to be a disaster and the hot tempered prince was going to kill her before she found her way back home.

God Help Her!

ThatAmazingGirl in collaboration with Miss_Behaviour (The writers of In Love With A Klepto) is bringing you another book.

“THE CURSED PRINCE'S STRANGE BRIDE”

What would you do if you suddenly found yourself in the body of a princess in the ancient time?

What's more, he isn't only a werewolf, he is also cursed by the moon goddess.

EXCERPT:

What should she do? She was confused and had no idea what was going on. Weddings in the middle ages was weird! What the hell is 'Virtues recitation'?

Should she pretend to faint? That was the only thought that made sense. So that was what she did.

She slowly collapsed on the ground and heard how everyone began to gasp and exclaim.

Alicia wanted them to take her out of there and then she would find a way to escape. But maybe she was unlucky after all, because when she peeped under her lashes, wondering why no one was coming to carry her out, she saw a golden robe, before the person crouched down in front of her.

She shut her eyes tightly and stilled her breath. She was an actress, after all. She could pull this off flawlessly.

“That was a bad act, my lady.” The deep voice spoke, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin.

Scary.

“I will only give you three seconds to get up.”

His voice wasn't really threatening, but somehow he commanded fear, especially with the slow and careful way he spoke. She had heard he was bad-tempered. What would he do after the three seconds passed? Would he kill her? Then would she die here? How did he even know she was pretending? Were people in the middle ages usually smart?

She opened one eye to peek at him and saw him staring right at her with a smirk.

THERE WAS NO WAY THE WEDDING WASN'T HAPPENING. SHE WAS SO DEAD!

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.”