Surviving Restructuring - Chapter 67. Nightmare (2)

Warning: Dark Romance!In the heart of Upper Ville lies a cursed werewolf pack, haunted by the Moon goddess herself. Isabella Ferris, a reckless and wolfless omega, yearns for an alpha mate who will bow to her every whim. But fate has other plans when she crosses paths with Razor King, the feared, cruel, and domineering alpha of the Bloody Skull pack, whom everyone bows to. Forced into marriage by a dark bargain, Isabella is thrown into the brutal world of werewolves and Mafia power struggles.

This book narrates the joyful cultivation tale of an ordinary commonplace university student and a cute and coquettish little fox.

Su Qiuge transmigrated into a novel and became the villain’s cannon fodder younger sister who was constantly courting disaster.

Not only did her brother dislike her, but she also offended her brother’s sworn enemy, the male lead.

After she transmigrated, Su Qiuge decided to curry favor with the male lead so that he would abandon his plans of revenge against her. She wanted to transform her cannon fodder fate and became an obscure passerby in his life instead.

Her plans were going smoothly, until one day she saw the aloof and cold male lead staring at her with a terribly dark gaze full of possessive desire.

Su Qiuge:?? Male lead wake up! I’m the cannon fodder!

Later she realized that the male lead who seemed like a good student was actually black-bellied and full of unspeakable intentions towards her.

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.”