MTL - Cultivating Immortals: I Can Save the Price - Chapter 310 Incredible disease combination

Xiao Bing, who used to be a top soldier in mercenary and came back to normal life because of the death of his best friend. He started over, played dumb and coped with difficulties. He stood on the bones of others and held beauty by his side. Finally, he succeeded and became the emperor of the city.“Brother Bing, please protect my little sister as well as my families carefully. I feel lucky to accompany you during these 6 years. It is my honor to go through fire and water with you. I’m not regretful!”I’m not regretful!Thinking of what Su Peiya had said before dying, Xiao Bing clenched his fists tightly and cried. He made a decision to protect Su Peiya’s families before finding the spy of Long Men and to make rightful claims for Su Peiya.Xiao Bing did not love Su Peiya, but he regarded her as his only best friend!He unfastened the seat belt when the plane landed safely. Looking at the urn in his hands, he sighed, “We have arrived at Jiang City. You get home now, Peiya.”

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.”

At nineteen, Dexter was already one of the world’s most celebrated authors. His books topped charts. Critics praised his genius. Fans devoured every word. But behind the acclaim was a lonely boy—raised without parents, love, or real friends—just stories.He published his first novel at fourteen. By seventeen, he was a literary star. But the higher he rose, the hollower it felt.Then came the writer’s block. The headaches. The blackout. And the transmigration.Dexter awoke in the body of Daylan, a disgraced young man in a crumbling, medieval world laced with steampunk tech, divine law, and political unrest. Daylan had already failed two of the three sacred Trials—rites that determine one’s magical potential. He was drowning in debt, entangled in plots to overthrow a corrupt Divine Church, and branded a lost cause.With no way back, Dexter took the final Trial—the most brutal of them all—and began a path that would earn him the whispered title: Soldier, Poet, King.But as his powers grew, one question haunted him: Did he truly die? And if so, who—or what—chose to bring him back?

According to Jianghu rumors, the following levels for Mei Zihan’s fans are:

After watching one of his local dramas, they are passersby fans; after watching ten, they are true love fans; after watching all of them, they are fans of the ultimate ashes. But on the way to upgrade fan status, most do not go from passersby fans to true love fans. Instead, the transformation is the blackening of a fan.

Mei Zihan has a glorious name, but he often acts in soap opera with bitter mother-in-law conflicts and anti Japanese war drama. Before meeting Jiang Ying, Mei Zihan’s biggest wish was to become a middle-aged handsome uncle. After meeting him, he was forced to act in the theatre group and go home to practice. What kind of acting do you need for a show that causes brain damage? It’s good enough to live. Honey, I really can’t act!

- Description from Novelupdates