Trials of the Abyss - Chapter 512: Two Sword Strikes

Born as a hybrid, I was ab*sed by my maternal grandfather because I was a useless child who didn’t inherit any abilities from my dad’s family, and ended up dying.I returned to the past with my memories, but my options weren’t so different from the past.I’ll either live like this and be ab*sed to death just like in my previous life, or I’ll go to my dad who hates me.‘I don’t want to die again.’Eventually I went to my dad who hated me, with a locket in my hand that would prove me to be the daughter of the Black Leopard family.“Let me…let me stay here.”All I asked for is protection until I became an adult. Then, when I was old enough to live alone, I was going to go out and live without causing trouble. Because I was going to be a good kid this time.But, somehow…“My beloved daughter, if there is anyone who touches you, I will kill them immediately.”My father, who I thought hated me, was so sweet to me.“Hey, Perfi, don’t keep hugging Thiel. At this time of year, I heard that girls are very delicate.”“Where did you learn that s*upid theory? Thiel likes to hug.”The two brothers who I thought were scary like me so much.“Thiel, I’m going to hand you over the head position of this Black Leopard family.”My paternal grandfather suddenly tells me that he is handing over his position to me.Hey …didn’t everyone hate me?

(Immortal Cultivation+Meeting a Perfect Match+Shura Field+Invincible Flow+Upgrade Flow+Playing the Pig and Eating the Tiger)—What is cultivation? When I think back to the past, cultivation was, as a baby, kicking my legs over and over again—kicking on the bed, kicking on the ground, kicking every single day. Cultivation was, as I grew older, swinging my sword again and again—slashing here, cutting there. Cultivation became, as I matured, the repeated harmony of yin and yang—busy tonight, and busy again tomorrow night. … My name is Xu Ming. I have never cared about the stipends given to me by those sect masters, noble ladies, or princesses.I said to her, “Can you give me a room closer to yours? I need to report my work to you at any moment.” Even if I accomplish nothing every day, I just want to watch how she cultivates. I…

For half of his life, Qin Qing has been fighting in the entertainment circle. He gained fame and fortune but his body also collapsed.

He was reborn and returned to the age of 18. He just wants to stay away from scumbags, earn some money, read books, enter university, and be a healthy and happy ordinary person.

Who would have thought that not even two months of being an ordinary person he was caught by a film emperor.

……

Qin Qing: Carefully work. Work hard to earn money.

Film Emperor: Do what work. Give you a newly acquired company.

Qin Qing: ……

Qin Qing: Scheming? deceiving people? once again?

Film Emperor: My person, who dares move you?

Qin Qing: ???

Qin Qing: Save money to buy a house.

Film Emperor: Would you like a duplex with a 500 ft rooftop garden? Or river view villa?

Qin Qing: ……

Qin Qing: Carefully study. take the college entrance exam.

Film Emperor: in those days, In the whole city, i was ranked in the top 100 in the college entrance exam. what question is hard, I will teach you.

Qin Qing: I’m only eighteen!

Film emperor: I know. the problem of age difference, I will overcome it myself.

Qin Qing: ……

—-

Su Zhihe was very pleased with his new small assistant, he looked pleasing to the eye and was good everywhere.

Since he liked it a lot, Su Zhihe decided to let his iron tree bloom*. Eighteen years was not considered young , the age difference of a few years was just right.

Not human?

He can be a dog to chase his boyfriend.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”