Supreme Swordsman of the Nine Heavens - Chapter 1088

All the people in the Tarot Empire know that the third young master of Le family is the most domineering, arrogant and beautiful Omega in the Empire. I don’t know how many alphas want him, but they dare not marry him. Now, under the order of the Imperial Marriage Center, this overlord flower will marry General Xu Yao, who is known as the ruthless Hell’s King of the Empire.

Tsk! It’s going to be fun!

So after X days of marriage…

Xu Yao: Butler, my wife hasn’t bullied you these days?

Butler: No, Madam is very kind, but he seems to think that you are a bit rude, he asked me to give you this paper.

It’s written:

~ Little Red Flower Agreement ~

Don’t swear a day, reward one little red flower.

Keep reading every night, reward two little red flowers.

Do good deeds, reward three little red flowers.

Get three hundred little red flowers, you can pa pa pa!

Xu Yao: Pei!!! You think Lao Zi is a dog in heat and wants to do it with you?!

After a month…

Xu Yao: Hurry! I still need three more, whose family is bankrupt this time? I’ll send a charity money, hurry! ! !

Cheerful, kind and virtuous wife vs Black belly and pampering husband, 1vs1, HE

- Description from Novelupdates

A person who lived the life to the maximum even being a person with paralysis, always played his favorite sport basketball, even if alone, follow the story of Jake Smith to be happy with a second chance.

The Blood Warrior of the Ungpae Association, who created a sea of blood wherever he went, made the world of the Forces of Evil possible.

The Nine Great Sects and the Six Great Clans joined forces to fight him, but were unable to stop him.

Four Great Warriors, who were Murim’s last hope, appeared.

The four of them fought against the Blood Warrior and eventually defeated him at Mount Song.

The time has come for the legacy of the Blood Warrior to rise once again.

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.”