The Peerless Emperor - Chapter 396 - 397 Life Palace

A conspiracy had brought her back from the countryside to replace his sister and marry the mysterious and eccentric Crown Prince.

As a tough girl She expressionlessly stretched her muscles and planning to block whatever came her way.

If that so called Crown Prince dared to touch her, she would definitely hit his head to the ground!

However, the strange crown prince seemed to have some misunderstood about her...

“My wife is obedient and sweet. Don’t scare her. ”

“My wife will have her final exams tomorrow. I need to go back early to tutor her. ”

“My wife is not knowledgeable and has a bad temper. But with me around, you have to indulge her. ”

In the upper class of S City, they received a warning from the young master of the Bo Family almost overnight: Madam Bo is a treasure. Whoever touches her will have their hands cut off!

Derek McCoy was a man that since his youth had to face many adversities. Often forced to settle with surviving rather than living, had finally found his place in the world, until everything was taken from him one last time. After losing his life to avenge his brother, he reincarnates until he finds a world worth living for, a world filled with magic and monsters. Follow him along his journey, from grieving brother to alien soldier. From infant to Supreme Magus.

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Tags: Transmigration, Male MC, Western Fantasy
Schedule: 1 chapter per day
Chapter Lenght: 1700 - 2000 words but usually are even longer
Warning: The MC is not an hero nor an anti-hero. He is a broken, cynic and misanthropic person looking only for his own gain. If you are looking for a forgiving, nice, MC that goes around saving people in distress, this is not your cup of tea.
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I don't own the cover but wasn't able to find the author.

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.”

I possessed a third-rate villain who died in every route of my favorite game.

But I want to live.