MTL - Wife, You Can’t Run After Eating - Chapter 200 Sowing tonight

One day, Saijō Haruto was forced by the Evil God of another world into reincarnation, and his soul was cursed.He was reborn into a world of swords and magic.In this world, one can become stronger by raising the level of their combat occupations.Unfortunately, Haruto cannot raise his level because of the curse.Haruto felt hopeless.However, because of the Evil God’s miscalculation, Haruto obtained an inexhaustible supply of magical power.This is the tale of how a Sage—cursed to have a “Locked” Status—managed to reach the pinnacle of strength by the effect of the curse.

On their third wedding anniversary, Qin Xi excitedly told Lu Bochen about her pregnancy, only to receive a 1 billion yuan check, an order to abort the child, and divorce papers in return.To protect her child, she fled.Five years later, she returned with her adorable twins and had become a revered miracle doctor in the medical field, with countless admirers.He regretted it. Qin Xi coldly watched as Lu Bochen, the CEO, apologized publicly on a live stream, “Weren't you the one who wanted a divorce and didn't want the child?”He humbly begged, “Xi Xi, I want to remarry and have the child.”“In your dreams.”“Xi Xi, the kids need a father.”The adorable twins stood with their hands on their hips in unison, “We don't need a daddy who bullies mommy.”Lu Bochen, who had even his bedding and luggage thrown out of the room, didn't dare lose his temper, “Take a good look and see who's really bullying whom!”

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.”

There is a very strange restaurant in the City of Sin.