These Familiars Are Strange - Chapter 145: Castle in the Sky

When choosing the companion system, Congliang did a trick, palace fights, house fights, scumbags, counterattacks, and other systems that seemed to be particularly wasteful of brain cells, and pulled a particularly pure-looking “Scum Girl Congliang System”.

Being good means being a good person, and being a good person is simple.
However, after starting the time-travel mission, Cong Liang discovered that her trapping system has another more appropriate name – “Sura Heart Hunting Field”
In other words, how to make a person who was imprisoned by you, humiliated, beaten, abandoned, abused, ridiculed, betrayed, harmed, exploited… fell in love with you and gave you a sincere kiss?
Wait online! Very urgent!

First wear – lame prince
Second wear – Blind man
The third wear – juvenile offender with severed finger
Fourth wear – ghost face fifth uncle
Fifth wear – one-armed tailor

【important hint! ! ! 】
The heroine is a rough man at heart, the hero and the woman got the wrong script series
Every world I will write seriously, so I may wear it slowly
As always, all logical common sense comes from the author’s brain hole, all for the service of the target, you are easy to go crazy
Declined to examine the textual research list, and to take the author’s anger

- Description from novelbuddy

This work portrays the perspective of Yuhanna, a masochist, as she falls into a state lower than livestock, ultimately becoming a mere human toilet.This is an extremely dark and hardcore explicit story.It delves into almost all hardcore genres feasible in a modern setting, excluding fantastical elements.Hardcore | Dark | Masochist | Submission |Incest| SM | R18 | SMUT

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.”