MTL - The Empress’ Livestream - Chapter 306 306: Three Years Langya (Six)

Qin Huai crossed into the mysterious fantasy world where demons were rampant and heroes were rising. He had no background or cultivation qualifications until the day he became a medicine store apprentice and started to cultivate with his fellow apprentices.

He found that the experience orbs actually fell out of his master and brothers.

He learned to grind medicine with his brothers.

“Ding! ‘Medicine Art’ Experience+3!”

His Master and brothers practiced martial arts.

“Ding! You picked up an ‘Essence of Qi Cultivation (White)’, ‘Qi Cultivation’ experience +3!”

He killed the bandits in the mountains and picked up their cultivation.

“Ding! ‘Astringent Breath Technique’ experience +13!”

His master said that the technique was not good at attacking, had a cultivation limit, and could only prolong life.

But when Qin Huai picked up the experience until the Astringent Breath Technique was 50 times stronger, his body took a tremendous change. A gentle push of his hand was like a wave. He could now both attack and defend.

People said that when two kinds of cultivation methods clashed, continuing to cultivate would lead to the death of the cultivator.

However, when Qin Huai picked up experience and directly skipped the cultivation process, he found there were no side effects at all!

When Qin Huai practiced more and more cultivation methods, he suddenly found that those methods interacted with each other in his body and became stronger skills.

…

Qin Huai, who could pick up experience, began to wander among the major powers.

He saw flesh growing from white bones and the dead revived.

He saw demons cooking 10,000 people and exuding extremely evil energy.

He saw the Buddha statue chanting in the temple. Sanskrit sounded like a mantra.

Qin Huai silently picked up experience in order to settle down in the chaotic world.

A wedding forged in vengeance, where love is the only risk they never planned for.“Let's get married,” Mia says, her voice trembling despite the fire in her eyes as she meets Stefan's guarded gaze. She needs this—needs him—even if he looks at her like she's just another complication.Stefan arches a brow, unimpressed. “And why would I do that?”“We both know what it's like to be betrayed by the men who raised us,” she replies, refusing to back down. “They stole our birthrights and handed them to someone else. The only difference is… you're the illegitimate one. I'm not.”He studies her—this heiress in designer armor, hiding rage beneath polish. “So your grand plan is a wedding band as revenge?”“No,” she says, stepping closer, close enough for him to smell the jasmine and gunpowder. “It's the only weapon they won't see coming.”Their fathers built empires by manipulation and control. Now, their children are making a vow—to burn it all down.Two shattered heirs. One dangerous alliance. A marriage built on vengeance.Mia Meyers was born to inherit her father's empire—until he handed it to his bastard son instead. Stefan Sterling knows rejection too well, discarded by a father who only valued power. Now, these rivals-turned-co-conspirators hatch a plan: marry for revenge, crush their fathers' legacies, and take what should've always been theirs.No love. No feelings. No divorce.But as lines blur between strategy and obsession, the real question becomes: can two enemies survive a marriage built not on trust—but on spite?

She was an illegitimate daughter in a wealthy family, with a lowly status. By chance, she discovered that her ex-boyfriend had sold her out. In order to hide, she accidentally injured him and fled in a panic. From then on, they were bound by an inextricable bond...

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.”