MTL - Longevity: Starting From the Luck Entry - Chapter 43 Jiang Yuan shot

I had to take him home and raise him. There was no bathtub or a large basin at home, so I had to put him in the washing machine for the time being.

It was an hour later before I remembered it again, by which he had been washed extremely clean.

- Description from Novelupdates

After experiencing heartbreak from being abandoned, he enlisted in the military.

And then, he became a war hero.

Fresh off the battlefield, Marshal Ke Lian received the startling news that his never-before-met fiancée had faced a family tragedy, losing both her parents. Despite inheriting a massive fortune, she now required someone to look after her.As the top-ranking figure on the “Empire's Most Popular Young Men Among Women” list, Marshal Ke Lian, known for his unparalleled charm and prowess, dutifully followed his father's wishes and married Du Xixi.He had envisioned Du Xixi as a delicate flower in need of tender care. But who could have imagined that the girl wielding a kitchen knife, fiercely battling the Humming Beast, would be the same one needing protection?Du Xixi stumbled into the Star Era, finding herself parentless and with a billion-dollar inheritance to claim... Oh, and a supposedly handsome fiancé she had never actually met.As the sole heir to the prestigious Imperial Chef Family, Du Xixi gazed at the rows of sleek Mecha in her new husband's courtyard and couldn't help but feel that a kitchen knife aligned more with her true temperament.

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.”