MTL - Phoenix Destiny - Chapter 769 Curse of blood

The genius cultivator Lin Xuanzhi didn’t let down the world in his past life, yet he only betrayed a single Yan Tianhen.

After choking to death on a watermelon, Rong Jiahui thought that she would enter the netherworld and be reincarnated.

But when she opened her eyes, she discovered, to her very horror, that she had returned twelve years into the past…

Looking at the beautiful and awkward “little brother” that would be conferred the title of Marshal in the future for outstanding military service, she almost let out a snort of laughter.

She firmly decided to hug the thigh of this little brother, and climb to the top of her life!

The plan was beautiful, but it had just one problem.

Why had this little brother… suddenly turned into…

A little sister…

- Description from Novelupdates

In short: an old lover gave me a little piglet.

Qin Zhuopu, a workaholic, has been single for many years. As he reaches middle age, his family is desperate for a child.

Until one day…

“Mr. Qin, your son is already in primary school!”

“???” I have only had one boyfriend!

Seven years after the breakup, the old lover returned to the wealthy family with a little fat pig in his arms: “Zaizai is a big eater, I can’t feed him. Zaizai’s primary school homework is too difficult, I can’t do it. I’ll give you guardianship from now on! Will you let me go to your construction site to move bricks? Son, say ‘Mommy’!”

Mr. Qin: (No, I couldn’t give birth to such a fat kid!)

Later…

Onlookers: I heard that Mr. Qin has adopted an illegitimate child born to his old lover by some woman?

Mr. Qin: Let me introduce to you, this is my own cub!

- 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.”