MTL - The Villain Just Wants To Make Money - Chapter 85 Feudal tyrant emperor (9)

【National Martial Arts】【Attributes】There are rumors that ancient Taoist priests could leap over mountain ravines in a single step,There are rumors that ancient generals could crush bronze and iron with one hand.There are rumors that ancient monks could cross the Yangtze River with a single reed,There are rumors that ancient travelers could let out a howl like thunder.Striking a person is like hanging a picture, the strike sounds sharp and crackling,Practicing qi gathers in the Dantian, crossing the river just knee-deep.With the help of the attributes panel, Wang Longhu explored and embarked on the path of martial arts through diligent practice.“Today, I am the number one in the world.”

The first time she saw him, he was surrounded by flames. She couldn’t clearly see his eyes, but his gaze burned every part of her skin it lingered on.

Surely if the legendary beasts ever had existed, he would be one of them—one of the dragons.

****

Kel has spent her life as a palace guard, hiding her mysterious ability. When sent in the princess's place to form a marriage alliance with a neighboring kingdom, she is captured by enemy soldiers and taken to the Serin Empire.

The ruler of Serin is a terrifying and coldhearted man, but he seems to have taken an unusual interest in Kel. How long will she be able to keep her identity and abilities a secret under the constant gaze of the Dragon Emperor?

----------

!!Slow burn romance!!

~I own no rights to the cover image~

Chen Mobai, a third-year student of Xianmen No. 5 High School, is working hard to review and prepare for the entrance to Daoyuan. The direction of his efforts is: to develop a new world

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”