MTL - One Useless Rebirth - Chapter 61 Cool fly!

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

It was only when he had been backstabbed and killed by his closest friends, teacher and fellow disciples that he knew what kind of unforgivable crimes he had committed.

After he gained the huge opportunity for rebirth, the Lin Xuanzhi who had climbed back up from hell swore to cherish the person that he had betrayed in his past life.

- Description from novelupdates

# loveafterangst

When his wife and dream girl were kidnapped at the same time, he chose to save his fragile dream girl and left his devoted wife to the kidnappers. He had said to his wife, “Qiao An, you’ve always been smart, surely you can save yourself even if I leave you with the kidnappers. But Wei Xin can’t.” From this incident, Qiao An finally realized her husband’s true feelings.

Left to fend for herself, she chose to jump from a dilapidated building. To the scumbag’s horror, after his supposedly obedient wife was discharged from the hospital, she began raining down revenge on him and his dream girl. He was completely overwhelmed. After he lost everything, he came to realize that smart women should never be provoked. He decided to reconcile with his wife. However, his wife had found a new life with his uncle!

Zhang Yang, the office drone, spent his days slacking off with the campus beauty and his nights watching his sister-in-law practice leg lifts. His girlfriend Xiao Man watched him every day, falling deep in thought... Until one day, while straddling Zhang Yang, she unleashed a soul-searching interrogation, “Why did the dean bow to you? Why did the richest man gift you a villa? Why did the tattoo-covered big brother kneel before you, begging you to take his wife?”

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.”