Mr. Fang's Feisty Mistress - Chapter 7 The Crucial Need For A Strong Backing

Born as the thirteenth son of the grand Kingdom of Ironhelm, Prince Liam is far from being considered a contender in the race for the throne. With his father, King Elijah Orlean, having only eight years left to choose the next heir, Liam’s prospects are slim. Seen as the boy with the least mana talent, he is overlooked by the court, his siblings, and even his tutors.But appearances can be deceiving. At just thirteen years old, Liam is secretly an Expert Mage, capable of wielding magic with precision and power that even the most talented in the kingdom would envy. Determined to keep his abilities hidden, Liam embarks on a path of quiet preparation, honing his skills in secret while navigating the dangerous political intrigue of Ironhelm.

Li Guanqi was only six when he killed his abusive uncle to save his mother. Moved by the tragedies that had befallen the tiny child, an old man named Su Xuan adopted Li Guanqi. Eight years later, he left the village and told Li Guanqi to join the Daxia Sword Sect — while it may not be the richest sect, it was virtuous. Then, he gave Li Guanqi a sword coffin and made him promise 2 things: that he would always carry it on his back, and to only tell people it was an ordinary sword box.Will he be able to uncover the mysteries of his sword coffin? Why was there a spirit trapped inside it? Who exactly was his grandfather?His sister was worked to death, his mother was seriously ill, and his gambling-addicted uncle even set his sights on the money meant for his sister’s funeral. Li Guanqi, wielding a knife, killed the man, until he encountered an old man named Su Xuan. Eight years later, the youth had become a swordbearer. Behind him was not a scabbard, but a sword coffin, the coffin for burying swords! From then on, this youth with ambitions as vast as the skies stepped into the blood-soaked world of cultivation!

200 years after the world has ended, the laws of society have long been forgotten.

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.”