MTL - Deposed Empress General - Chapter 25 Mentor

It’s a long road to bury the dream deep in my heart and carry the wishes and dreams of my dear friend and teacher.

In the pirate world where the strong are respected, fight a bloody long road.

“Pirates… maybe they’re all damned people.”

—Snold Simon

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Group number, 155131664

- Description from novelbuddy

A man in his thirties was standing in front of she-devil's grave, under everyone's watchful eyes, he dropped the flower to her coffin, his tone was full of ridicule. “Congrats on your death.”Next year he came, “I won. You lost to me and I will live well. Just rot in there.”Next year he came again, “I have a pretty girlfriend and I will marry next year. My life is good. Nothing to worry about.”Next year he came once more, “I will stop visiting and forget you! My life is better without you! See, I live well!”But he came again the next year and the years after that. People said he was hunted by his so-called arch-enemy. That even after death, the devil did not even let him go.He stood in front of her grave. His once handsome face had turned old and wrinkly.“Bei Sangyun, I cursed you. You are not allowed to rest in peace. You must be suffering there like me, right? You devil...”He might be the last one standing. But his life was the same as the dead's- lifeless and empty. He did not live well, he never once marry and his heart was never at peace.And it was all the fault of one person.*****Bei Sangyun was a big bully in high school. The target of her bullying was the skinny boy in her grade, Fei Chuan. They were classmates once in kindergarten and met again in high school.But one day, just a year left before graduation, the big bully suddenly changed.One day, Fei Chuan hesitantly opened his locker. The other night, the big bully said that she left something in his locker. He did not really want to open it. He was afraid a poisonous snake would come out of his locker. However, his report card was there. With gritted teeth, the young boy opened it.However, what appeared was not a hideous thing as he expected, but a bright pink letter with a little heart sticker as a seal.It turned out, the surprise was scarier than a snake.Was this a new form of torture?Since then, Bei Sangyun relentlessly chased the young Fei Chuan until the two got married.******This is a story of rebirth. The two arch-enemies who could not live under the same sky had become sweet lovers.

Xu Qing woke up to find himself turned into a Zombie.Zombies do not die; their life is endless, yet they suffer from the lack of a method to evolve and ascend!Facing a chaotic era where ceremonies and music collapse, and demons and strange creatures emerge endlessly, Xu Qing chooses to remain under the radar and becomes the most inconspicuous Corpse Driver in the shadowy profession of corpse craftsman, earning various rewards by performing rites for the dead each day.Be it folk arts, innumerable professions, or the nation's destiny and heaven's will, gods, ghosts, and the extraordinary, Xu Qing hides within a shop, mastering them all.Watching clouds rise and fall, witnessing the dynasties change and old acquaintances fade; with eyes opening and closing, witnessing the vicissitudes of life, thousands upon thousands of years, my form remains unchanged, eventually becoming an eternal name among the immortals!------------------[Alternative Longevity Stream, Folklore and Anomalies, Management Daily, Steady Cultivation]

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.”