MTL - Reborn as a Good Child - Chapter 20 Fleeing

When we met for the first time in our first year of high school, he saw my contempt, but silently continued to clean;

【sweet! Be sweet! Cool! Keep cool! 1V1+ Almighty! 】

[chronological text + rebirth + fool + ancient martial arts + metaphysics + magic doctor + farming + getting rich]

Qin Xi was reborn.

Reborn in 1983, he was cheaply married to a fool by the superb family, and accidentally inherited the mysterious medicine on the day of his rebirth.

Since then, the silver needle has crossed people and tricks, not only cured the fool husband, but also designed to kick the best family members, leading the husband’s family to prosper…

PS: It doesn’t look good, you hit me! …slightly can’t hit!

- Description from novelbuddy

Cheng Yan transmigrated only to end up in a medieval Europe like world, becoming Roland, a Royal Prince. But this world doesn’t seem to be the same as his former world, despite some similarities. Witches are real and they actually can use magic?

Follow Roland’s battle for the throne against his siblings. Will he be able to win, even though the king already declared him to be a hopeless case and with the worst starting situation? With his knowledge of modern technologies and the help of the witches, who are known as devils’ servants and are hunted by the the Holy Church, he might have a fighting chance.

Now, let his journey begin.

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.”