Seeking Immortality In The World Of Cultivation - Chapter 954 - 679 Luo Jing’s Invitation_1

Yo, Hi! I’m Frank, I made a deal with a demon to pay me some money for receiving a guest for a few days every week.
I had no idea about what I have done.
On May 1st, Conan ‘the God of Death’ came to my house. I was forced to let him in and we get involved in a criminal case.
On May 8th, Bruce Wayne ‘Batman’ came to me. I was forced to follow him to fight crime.
On May 16th, Hannibal Lecter, The Silence of the Lambs, came to my home. I can only say that I really can’t stand my guests.

- Description from Novelupdates

“Hurry to the hospital and donate your blood.” “Go to the hospital at once.” “Remember to donate blood at the hospital.” Even if she had already been donating blood for three times in the past few months, which then took a toll on her body, Huo Chuan never felt an ounce of pity for his so-called wife. After three years of marriage, Huo Chuan would only ever contact her to ask her to donate her blood to the hospital. No, accurately speaking, she was selling her blood. Selling it to Huo Chuan’s beloved woman, Bai Ting.

Yun Qing had been working hard to play the role of a good wife and secretary, but Huo Chuan’s family thought nothing of her. They were enigmatic and petty toward her. Yun Qing even had to do all the cleaning and cooking alone at home. Her existence was so menial that one would even assume she was a maid. In the company, everyone underestimated her. Yun Qing had had enough so she said, “Let’s divorce.” Perhaps she still had hope, but her husband’s reaction completely disappointed her. “What are you throwing a tantrum for? Name your price. The doctor says that Bai Ting is in a critical condition!” Huo Chuan’s mother said, “A lowly secretary like you should be grateful that you married into our Huo family, so why are you making a fuss?” Huo Chuan stared down at her. “I know that you’ve donated more blood this month, but I’ve transferred you the compensation fee! I can tolerate you asking for more, but I won’t tolerate your tantrum!” Looking at Huo Chuan’s mesmerizing features, Yun Qing laughed at herself. He was indeed charming, but he had never ever shown her a pleasant expression. Enduring the pain in her heart, Yun Qing insisted on going through the divorce with Huo Chuan. “Don’t you regret this, Yun Qing!” “Huo Chuan, the only thing I regret is agreeing to this marriage with you three years ago. This marriage had me all battered and bruised. Enough is enough!” For Huo Chuan, she gave up her status and ignored her family’s advice. She pounced at Huo Chuan like a moth to flames, only to receive his indifference and lack of affection in return.

After Yun Qing left the Huo family, she got into a luxurious car. Old Master Yun’s heart ached for his daughter. “Qingqing, you had a three-year agreement with me, that if he doesn’t love you, you will come home and inherit the company. Now, it’s time to uphold your promise.”

Following her attempted assassination, Fatima found herself amidst a meticulously staged slave auction orchestrated by her mysterious rescuers in the capital city of a prospective ally empire. Now a slave of the Kartier Duchy, her life as a princess seems far behind her as she spends her days toiling the farms under the scorching sun. Just when all hopes seem to be lost, Fatima’s painful days eased upon meeting the strikingly handsome heir of the Kartier duchy along with his cold and seemingly gruff knight. Will she ever overcome the shackles of slavery and return home to reclaim her title or will spend the rest of her life enduring the cruel treatments of the duchess? Torn between a charming heir and a dubious knight as her potential escape routes, which hand will she grasp?

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.”