MTL - Finding Glowing Beauty in Books - Chapter 12 Ye Cheng

One day, the majority of humanity had a collective thought.

‘I wish the world would just collapse.’

And then, that wish came true.

The king of assassins was reborn, mastering both alchemy and poison. Sitting inside the space, there was a ghost that loved crying.

Master is a sage-like character, but is an out and out veteran rogue inside.

First Senior Brother has the external appearance of an adorable leprechaun, but has an extremely crass and violent personality.

Second Senior Brother seems to be cultured and refined, but it can’t cover up his flirtiness and craftiness.

Third Senior Sister is seductive, enchanting to the extreme, yet is actually a crude tomboy who uses brute force.

Fourth Senior Brother is shockingly handsome to others, but in private, he is a proud, battle-crazy glutton with a poisonous tongue.

The Zhu Zhu who looks very homely and unrefined was forced to live life among this group of beautiful people; it could be said the pressure was huge.

Could it be that the heavens are doing this to project her beautiful heart?!

Fortunately, not only did she have a divine pig for protection, she even knows a supreme skill —— how to disguise as a pig who can devour tigers!

Alyschu Note: The zhu in Zhu Zhu and pig sound the same in Chinese! Same with the title and author!

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”