Super Supportive - FIFTY-SEVEN: A Scale Tips

Young Lin Yi, betrayed by his beloved, had his core taken away and became a pariah despised by all.At a fortuitous moment, Lin Yi acquired the ancient legacy 'Chaos Sword Body Technique', rising against the odds to embark on a path of revenge!“Those who have wronged me, Lin Yi, shall be repaid a hundredfold!”

I was transmigrated into a work I liked and finally came back.But after, I was dragged into an Academy Romance Novel, which I skipped over after only reading the prologue.There I found a half-broken possessors who regressed endlessly.

She just took a nap in the lounge, and when she opened her eyes, she was dressed as a fat country girl who was illiterate in ancient times.

Not to mention delicious and lazy, he is still domineering in the village.

No one wanted to marry her in the eight townships of ten miles, so she finally bought a golden tortoise-in-law.

In a rage, the old bully went down the road and kidnapped a husband for her.

It’s just… Dad, isn’t there something wrong with what you kidnapped?

＊

After marriage, Fatty Su is very busy.

Busy transforming bully dad and bully brother.

Busy rescuing the beautiful god general husband.

Busy raising three little bullies, Xiaodouding.

Accidentally, she was busy becoming Dayan’s most powerful 1st rank mistress!

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”