MTL - Rebirth Starts From 2006 - Chapter 1 Hello, 2006

The youngest in the Torres family was born sickly. She was sent to the Mystic Church for foster care at the age of one. Four years later, it was rumored that she was going to be brought back.

The sons of the Torres household all expressed their opinions.

Her first brother said, “I don’t like her! I don’t want a sister!”

Her second brother said, “He-he, we can tease her. I hope she can be a little unyielding. Then we can play fun tricks on her.”

Her third brother said, “What sister? Who is that? I don’t even know her!”

Lauren, the girl sent to the church, was not acknowledged by her brothers.

Before she came back, she was ostracized by her brothers. Everyone thought that Lauren would be bullied every day when she returned home.

However, at Lauren’s fifth birthday party, strange things happened. The first brother who was stern and ruthless actually let her sit on his shoulders. And the second brother who liked to mess with others and bully others was actually busy looking after her. He was even more considerate than a maid. Those who liked to speak ill of Lauren were all ruthlessly taught a lesson by her brothers. They even declared, “No one can speak ill of her. Otherwise, they will become enemies of the Torres family.”

Everyone was shocked. Lauren, who grew up in the church, was actually so favored in the Torres family? It turned out that Lauren was no ordinary girl. After returning from the church, she could predict the future. She had predicted the first brother’s death and successfully saved him. She predicted the second brother’s economic crisis and successfully saved his company. She had predicted the third brother’s early state cancer and saved his life successfully. The Torres family doted on her. She was such a powerful baby.

How could they not like her?

Follow Kairi Izumi—a quiet, eccentric, and somewhat conspicuous girl— who never felt like anything but an NPC in a story. Working behind the scenes, unnoticed by others had always been part of her daily life, dwelling with medicine and toxins.So, it's not surprising that she wasn't tad attractive according to others.That is, until one day... that guy, he confessed to me.Wait a minute—doesn't that mean I'm a heroine now? Hang on, how is that even possible? Me? Heroine? No way! I’m just a girl from a small village who likes to help others. I don’t particularly stand out, and compared to the other girls, I’m not even that attractive.And so, a question lingers, driving the unfolding of this dumbfounding narrative forward:Wait, what do you mean I got reincarnated to be a heroine?That's weird because usually a heroine is not strong let alone smart - they are usually dumb, cute and pretty. Definitely not me. I mean, how is that possible? Me? Heroine? No way!

As soon as Rong Yan entered the book, it was a bloodbath.Faced with a deathly hellish start.She ended up with Liu family's slacker gang.And the people coming to catch the cheaters were just a few minutes away.One step forward, an abyss; one step back, into the dragon's den.Rong Yan: Wow, this is thrilling!***Fortunately, she has a space with trillions of resources, otherwise, this house would be empty.She genuinely felt like she could die on the spot.But what's with the control group?Her man is a cannon-fodder unlucky chap?Her brother-in-law and sister-in-law's fate is extremely tragic?Is she that doomed original match where the more miserable she is, the better off the female protagonist?Well, go to hell!Kicking those bloodsucking relatives, punching those scoundrels...Qin Ye stops her: ”Wife, let me handle this.“Rong Yan: ...Can I still get a divorce?Qin Ye's cold laugh: ”Only widowhood, don't think about divorce.“

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.”