Sovereign of the Three Realms (WN) - Chapter 2290: Finger on the Trigger

Here, only those with spiritual roots can cultivate while those with mortal roots are destined to stay mortal.

Mo Wuji only has mortal roots, but will he only remain as a mortal?

- Description from Novelupdates

Guzi transmigrated into a novel and became a character in a story about a true and false rich heiress.While others who transmigrated into novels become the true heiress, she became the fake heiress. To make matters worse, both she and the true heiress are engaged.She was engaged to the son of a military leader, while the true heiress was engaged to a divorced man with three children from his previous marriage.Guzi's parents, caring for the true heiress, decide to have Guzi marry in her place. In the book, the character “Guzi” was furious and attempted suicide but failed.As a result, she lost the love and favor of her parents. After marrying the divorced man,“Guzi” blamed him for all the wrongdoings and mistreated his children. Eventually, he could no longer tolerate her actions and divorced her. “Guzi” would become a destitute beggar and die miserably on the street.After transmigrating into the book, Guzi left her family and married the divorced man. When she faced the man and his three children, Guzi believed that the original owner of her body made a terrible mistake.This was a painless experience of being a mother without any hardships to endure!On the other hand, the true heiress had to deal with her husband's illegitimate child and fight for family assets. She would lead a daily life full of hardships.The true heiress consoled herself, thinking that she was still better off than Guzi. She had to raise someone else's child and care for an old man.However, one day she sees Guzi stepping out of a luxurious car with a protruding belly, supported by the richest man in the city.Looking aggrieved, Guzi got out of the car and said, “We agreed not to have children!”The man beside her responded tenderly, “Sorry, my mistake.”

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 night before we obtained our marriage certificate, I asked him, “When did you start to develop feelings for me?”

He answered, “I don’t remember.”

“But, why me?”

“Why not you?”

“I’m very petty, and I get jealous very easily.”

“So am I.”

“I’m afraid I’m not worthy of you.”

“So am I.”

“I haven’t really dated, so I don’t know what love is.”

“I don’t know either.”

He held my hand gently, “But I know this. When I think about spending the rest of my life with you, I feel that my future is filled with hope.”

At 16, we used the same class desk, with less than 10cm between our arms. My peripheral vision was full of him.

At 26, I woke up in the morning, and saw the sunlight softly shining on his face. I thought, this is how I want to grow old – gradually, together, with him.

I guess this must be love.