The Former Wife of Invisible Wealthy Man - Chapter 104: The Truth Behind The Guotai Theater (2)

Born in the royal family, Yan Shi has too many things that he is helpless toward.

Doesn’t matter whether he is willing or not, he has already been dragged into the battle for the throne.

But above him there’s a father who detests and rejects him, and below him there are brothers watching him like a tiger watches its prey.

Yan Shi’s every step is filled with uncertainty, afraid that with one wrong move, he would lose everything.

But just as he was about to rein in the net, his stomach actually got bigger!

Help: We’re in the midst of fighting for the throne, what should I do with my big stomach? How do I ensure no one discovers it?

- Description from Novelupdates

In the past life, he was an aerodynamic engineer of a well-known company, and in this life, he is a college student of a famous school.

When the two identities are perfectly integrated, what sparks will appear.

His life experience is also slowly uncovering the mystery, whether he can beat the tycoons of this era, and whether he can stand at the peak of world business.

- Description from novelbuddy

I reincarnated with e*otic game skills, but this is apparently an apocalyptic dark fantasy. I can’t die, so I tried to save the world with e*otic game skills… “Saint! Save us!!” “Saint! Save us!!!” People keep calling me a saint.

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.”