I am the Monarch - Chapter 295 - The Past (5)

Anyone who could construct a stable Spell Model could become a Wizard — that was the Wizards’ ultimate secret! Having been given a new life as the son of an aristocrat and armed with a super quantum computer from his past life, Spell Models came as easily as breathing to Merlin. With this overwhelmingly huge advantage, would Merlin become the greatest Grand Wizard of all time?

Third Miss Luo relies on her father’s power to create chaos everywhere and is notorious for bullying the weak. When she had nothing to do, she led a group of servants to the streets to flirt with beautiful and handsome boys. For Princess Qingyang, if this kind of person dared to behave wildly in front of her, she would just kill her with a single finger—until she opened her eyes again and found that she became Third Miss Luo, Luo Sheng.

- Description from Novelupdates

After five years, Ning Xi has returned and is out to take revenge on the sister who turned her parents against her, and the childhood sweetheart who betrayed her for her sister. She aims to fulfill her childhood dream and become a famous actress. However, her sister is still out to get her and she has to avoid all her underhanded schemes.

One day, after falling into one of her sister’s schemes, she meets an adorable little boy and saves him. His father then offers to repay her with his body: “Marry me.”

Ning Xi: ???!!!

Little boy: -sad puppy dog eyes-

Thus Ning Xi starts staying at the mute little boys’s house to help him come out of his shell… cue lots of comedy, some flirting, sweet moments between Ning Xi and little bun… and maybe big bun too.

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.”