MTL - Comeback 1992 - Chapter 1189 not romantic at all

“I miss the feudal era very much.” Chen Muyang once said to his friends.

When a friend asked him the reason, Chen Muyang said yearningly: “Because of polygamy in the feudal era, think about it, you can have many wives, you can sleep in different ways every day, and you can sleep together.”

“Cut!” The friends despised them, but their yearning was no less than that of Chen Muyang.

One day, the legendary system merged with Chen Muyang, giving him the ability to travel through the heavens and the world. Chen Muyang’s claws stretched out to countless goddesses in the heavens and the world!

“My, all beauties are mine!”

- Description from novelbuddy

Su Yu was in a third rate university when the “Sky Holes” appeared, his school fell through the “Sky Hole” and appeared in the middle of a forest that was teeming with terrifying creatures.

Witness a fearsome transformation that originates from his hand…

- Description from Novelupdates

Qiao Anhao and Lu Jinnian had secretly longed for each other for thirteen years, and now that there’s a possibility for them to be together, even though the circumstances may be unconventional, neither one can refuse their inner desires any longer.

Hurled into a false marriage, Qiao Anhao treads carefully towards the cold and reclusive Lu Jinnian, but after years of near-missed opportunities and deep misunderstandings, how could their last shot at love possibly run smooth?

“Nation Husband” is a Korean term awarded to a man who is perfect in the eyes of the public – an ideal husband.

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.”