MTL - Super Craftsman - Chapter 951 Challenge (on)

“Uncle, I was punished for being late! ” “Buy the school. ”

“Uncle, I was bullied! ” “SEND THEM TO HEAVEN! ”

In this era of competing for fathers, Qin Sheng never competed for fathers. Those things were too extravagant. She didn’t have them, she only competed for uncles!

Ever since she had a rich uncle, she lived a life of fighting and being cleaned up by others, causing trouble and being scapegoated by others.

Her three big goals in life were to make him fall in love with her, fall in love with her, fall in love with her!

“How did you board the Astral Express, walk the Path of the Stars?”“Because I ended the Honkai, altered everyone's fate.”“So your first step on this path was becoming a hero?”“No, it was for survival, searching for a thigh to cling to.”“And then?”Ryan adjusted his glasses, his voice resounding.“I became the thigh.”

In this world, there is the beautiful mutual and telepathy love.

“I’ve been pursuing you for so long, what do you think?’

Xu Xu could feel her heart pounding in her chest; however what he said wasn’t logical.

“You’re pursuing me?”

Ji Bai raised his black eyes looking at her quietly.

“Every morning I exercised with you, personally taught you how to shoot, prompted the police team to call you sister in law… If this isn’t pursuing, then what is it?”

She took a deep breath stabilizing her heartbeat.

“You don’t need to pursue me anymore.”

Ji Bai totally did not expect her to say that. His heart sank, coldly said: “What do you mean?”

Xu Xu looked into his eyes: “I also like you so you don’t need to pursue.”

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.”