I Bacame the Mother of His Child - Chapter 45 - 44: First Meeting with Zhao Jian Country

In this world, there is the beautiful mutual and telepathy love.

“I’ve been pursuing you for so long, what do you think?’

Xu Xu could feel her heart pounding in her chest; however what he said wasn’t logical.

“You’re pursuing me?”

Ji Bai raised his black eyes looking at her quietly.

“Every morning I exercised with you, personally taught you how to shoot, prompted the police team to call you sister in law… If this isn’t pursuing, then what is it?”

She took a deep breath stabilizing her heartbeat.

“You don’t need to pursue me anymore.”

Ji Bai totally did not expect her to say that. His heart sank, coldly said: “What do you mean?”

Xu Xu looked into his eyes: “I also like you so you don’t need to pursue.”

I was nothing. A lowly omega, destined to live in the shadows of stronger wolves. But on the night of my eighteenth birthday, the moon had other plans for me. My mate was an Alpha’s son. The problem? He wasn’t the only one. The Blackwood triplets—Kael, Ronan, and Darian—each bore the same mark that bound them to me.To be Luna, I would have to survive the chaos of three powerful mates, a jealous rival who wanted my place, and a secret buried deep in my bloodline.Because being chosen by the moon was never a gift. It was a curse.

Born with peerless talent, profound looks, and unfathomable strength, Young Master Zhao woke up one day and chose violence.---Greetings, Fellow Daoists.This ancient scripture records the rise of a new Immortal Venerable. The one who defied fate, defiled heaven, and dominated all under the Nine Skies.They called him mad.They said he was courting death.But Young Master Zhao simply smiled and turned the heavens into his mount.From arrogant Ye Chen to the invincible Yang Kai, every so-called Son of Qi was but an insect crushed beneath his foot, stripped of destiny, reduced to stepping stone for his cultivation path.In a realm where the strong seize fate and the weak become dust, he was born with everything.While others pondered why the sun followed them, he was already a Holy Realm powerhouse, tearing through sacred mountains and enslaving ancient dragons with a single flick of his sleeve.From holy maidens to dragon priestesses,From Eastern princesses to Western empresses,From Northern jade maidens to Southern mature elders.One might count the stars in the heavens,But not the names in his harem scroll.If Fellow Daoists still do not know the difference between heaven and earth, then this scripture shall enlighten thou.---⚠️ BE WARNED, FELLOW DAOISTS! ⚠️This is no ordinary scripture. Reading further may shake your Dao heart, weaken your spirit veins, and send your cultivation into irreversible Qi Deviation.Those beneath the bone age of 18 must avert their eyes, lest they be pulled into a forbidden dual-cultivation realm with no escape.This scripture contains a potent fusion of Yin and Yang, Male and Female, light and Dark.A sacred technique long prohibited by the righteous heavens!Only those with profound Dao harmony may begin to comprehend its lewd profundity.---To the Young Masters of prestigious orthodoxy clans, wise sages & hermits, divine emperors, immortal venerables, great elders, profound sect masters, and even the all-knowing constellations:Support this rebellious scripture against the heavens by donating your Power Stones and Spirit Stones generously,And let the Lewd Dao rise once more!It's the fated time for us, the Lewd scholars, Cultured Daoists, Lustful Sages, sinister constellations, debauched emperors and horny Young Masters to stand against the righteous heavens and obtain the true Cultured enlightenment that has been suppressed since the dawn of time.For Lustful Dao!!!The Dao creator: LewdScholar

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.”