The Strongest Conquest System - Chapter 79 Loki And Thor Part 2

Mr. Tycoon Is Actually the Father of My Child!

As an ordinary newly graduated college student, Lin Zaozao unexpectedly found herself caught up in the trend of transmigration and transformed into a complete fool weighing a whopping 280 pounds.

As if being dimwitted wasn’t bad enough, there was also a large black mole on her face that made her look incredibly ugly.

Though looks did not matter much, what was worse was that through an arranged marriage by the government, she ended up marrying five disabled men.

Her five husbands were a blind man, a lame man, a deaf man, a mute and a paralyzed man.

Along with herself, a dimwit, they formed quite a congregation of disabled people.

Before she even had time to bemoan her misfortune, a gaming system gave her a skill – the ability to transfer anyone’s injury or disability onto herself, before promptly disappearing.

Facing the system’s various unfair treatments, Lin Zaozao could only swallow her grievances.

However, the more she interacted with her five disabled husbands, the more she realized there was more to them than meets the eye…

On the plane, a roar came from the broadcast. "Zuo Aiai, you still dare to run away for me? "She raised her voice. "The world is very big, I want to go out and take a look. ""You can go out, but I'm afraid you won't be able to come back, " the man said shamelessly."Why? "Zuo Aiai blushed. "Get lost""Your photo has been posted on the world's best-selling magazine! " The man said domineeringly. "according to your husband's popularity, there are countless women who want to kill you. For Your Safety, be good! Come home with me! "

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.”