The Son-In-Law Of A Prestigious Household Wants A Divorce - Chapter 120: Come to You

A world where magic beasts went extinct… until technology revived them!David wakes up in the middle of a Hatching Ceremony in the body of Jethro Merrick, clutching the lowest ranked egg.Now he’s living the life of a poor mechvet’s son, dreaming of adventure as a Riftwalker (think monster taming and dungeon clearing… but with cybernetic beasts!).But dreams crash fast. His egg hatches into a Red Lizard—cute but powerless and only used for pest control. Just as Jethro resigns himself to a boring life, a wrong turn during a Rift Training expedition lands him in a forbidden Rift zone.He barely escapes alive… only to wake up with a supercharged power: he can see the magic and mechanics of every mechbeast, right down to their origins!Here’s the catch: the ancient conqueror who once had this power wants it back, and he’s bringing an army of terrifying mechbeasts to take it.To survive, Jethro must build an army of his own, starting from his powerless frail lizard. But can a pest-control pet (and its rookie human) save the world?Let’s hope so, because our dear world of Nebulon desperately needs saving!

On the way to a company workshop, we fell into a world of immortal cultivators while still in the car.

Those with spiritual roots and unique abilities were all called to join cultivation sects, living prosperously.

But I, having neither spiritual roots nor special abilities, lived as an ordinary mortal for 50 years, complying with fate until my death.

That’s what I thought.

Until I regressed.

I’ve entered a hidden route in a failed game.And now, I have to become a false prophet.There’s no other choice.Since it’s come to this, I’ll become the greatest false prophet on the continent.

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.”