MTL - The Thrilling Sword - Chapter 1096 : Extreme Spirit Realm, Hatred!

Gradually, he found that he couldn’t leave this adorable kid, as well as his beautiful and stubborn mother.

Xia Xingcheng was about to get engaged to her childhood sweetheart, but her vicious half-sister, the daughter of her stepmother, set a trap for her out of jealousy. After a nightmarish night, her fiancé thought that she had cheated and canceled the engagement. Heartbroken, she chose to go abroad alone for a living.

Five years later, when her father threatened her with her grandmother’s health and forced her to return to attend her sister’s wedding, she had to come back with her four-year-old son. Although the child had been accidentally conceived, he was the only comfort during struggling to survive abroad. Coincidentally, they had run into the child’s father, Mr. Sheng, on the plane. But neither she nor he was able to recognize the other. However, perhaps blood ties were that mysterious, the kid sensed that this handsome and powerful man was his father! Although she had never thought of looking for the child’s father, fate had arranged for him to appear whenever she was about to be harmed by her shameless family. Gradually, he found that he couldn’t leave this adorable kid, as well as his beautiful and stubborn mother.

Through an array of coincidences, Alex comes to learn that making pills is one of the best ways to earn money in the game, 'Eternal Cultivation.'

When Ye Qing Ran wakes up, she finds that she has transmigrated into a book. She has become the vain, domineering, and evil villain who dies a tragic death.

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.”