This Sword Cultivator is Somewhat Dependable - Chapter 18 - : Dantai Qingrun

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.”

The meteor pierced the sky and also pierced the peace of the world.

Transcendent power comes to the world, who is watching in the dark, and who is whispering in my ear.

When the roar shatters the sky, when the power steps down the abyss, when all life and death are dominated… They call me – God.

- Description from novelbuddy

“Let’s get a divorce,” Chen Jinyao said.

She knew that she was only a supporting character in this novel world. The male lead only married her as a business relationship and, sooner or later, the female lead of the story would eventually show up.

If Chen Jinyao was indecisive about leaving, only heartbreak would follow.

Something pulled her thin white wrist, and next thing she knew, she was pushed down and pressed against a pillow. Yan Cheng’s peach blossom eyes bored into her in discontent as he declared, “Only in your dreams!”

After spending a colorful night, she was too tired to lift a finger.

When she fell asleep in Yan Cheng’s arms, she had a dream.

In her dream, she had turned 80 years old.

But can someone tell her why she still hadn’t left the marriage at that age?