Longevity with My Offspring - Chapter 48: Murder and Plunder Bring a Golden Belt

Before being reborn, she made a fuss every day, only wanting a divorce, divorce, and another divorce, until she was in danger and he died to save her.After rebirth, she was overjoyed, only wanting to love him, love him, and love him dearly.However, someone is too aloof. What to do? No problem, she is prepared with eighteen different skills, not to mention she has a 'fox' strategist.Thus, she deals with scumbags with one hand and flirts with him with the other, leading to happy days that bloom like flowers.“Report, someone confessed to sister-in-law.”“What? Someone dares to take Mu Qiancheng's wife? Bring that blind fellow to me, I want to have a good chat with him about life.”

In the City of Crime, one law stands above them all: Only the strongest can live.

Because her appearance was not breathtaking, the Emperor breaks off their engagement and bestows her instead to the bloodthirsty, ruthless, and cold-blooded Second Prince (Wang Ye).

On her wedding night comes endless humiliation, the genuine Princess Consort becoming a deserted women. A foolish woman before rebirth, she no longer expects his love. In this world, she must possess enough talent to awe those around her, carrying herself with composure and articulating with beautiful diction, override above the nine night.

- 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.”