Super Rich from Winning a Lottery - Chapter 334 - 239: Formation of the 7 Major Groups

By the time I reached thirty, I hadn't managed to provide any of the happiness I wanted for my wife.I also still couldn't become the support my parents relied on.At this turning point in my fate, my income suddenly began to increase randomly.(A daily life tale in a wealthy family setting, featuring a single female lead and no harem.)

Married for three years without returning home? The charming '70s woman wants a divorce.[Cold and aloof pilot vs. stunning translator, period 1v1, husband-chasing drama]On the first day of their marriage, Jiang Zhixun applied for a transfer to the Northwest, rebelling against his arranged marriage with Shen Qingqing.In the three years that followed, they never saw each other again.When Shen Qingqing was diagnosed with amnesia, she made a decision within half an hour.She decided to go to the Northwest.To find Jiang Zhixun and get a divorce!An exceptional beauty arrived at the barracks, elegant, refined, and well-educated, yet married to a cold-faced tyrant.Jiang Zhixun was convinced Shen Qingqing had come to pester him.He avoided her.Evaded her.Yet, he couldn’t help being drawn to her.Jiang Zhixun decided to keep Shen Qingqing and live a good life with her.But Shen Qingqing proposed a divorce.Jiang Zhixun: “You came to the Northwest just for a divorce?”Shen Qingqing: “Yes, divorce.”After the divorce, Shen Qingqing returned to Beijing.Her memories of the time in the Northwest gradually faded, until eventually, she even forgot who Jiang Zhixun was.On a snowy, stormy night, the man stubbornly stood outside the door, his eyes tinged with crimson.“Mister Shen, I’m your new neighbor.”“My name is Jiang Zhixun.”

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.”

Stands in front of you,The overseer and protector of darkness,The disruptor and reinventor of order,The creator and persecutor of sycophants,The hidden actress queen, the goddess of the night, the nightmare of Gods and their gravedigger,The True Ancestor of Blood—Charlotte de Castell.Accompanied by madness, born from blood, hand in hand with curses, walking alongside destruction.This is a tale belonging to the Bloodborne…