MTL - World of Cultivation - ~ Section 857

Jiang Chen, son of the Heavenly Emperor, unexpectedly reincarnated into the body of a despised young noble, thus embarking on the path of the underdog trouncing all commoners. No one has the right to call himself a genius in front of Jiang Chen, as no one has a better understanding of the heavens than the son of the Heavenly Emperor. “Genius? He who adheres to me shall ascend. Those who oppose me can find solace in hell!’

Mana Awakening. Systems. Gates. Reincarnation.Any one of them would be enough to build a story around. But Ellis’s story has them all… and more.It began with the sudden changes to his world, and how Ellis believed he was adaptive enough. That maybe, finally, he could achieve something.But with coincidences and circumstances stacked against him, in the end… he was reincarnated into a different world.What awaits him there? Will he be able to return to Earth?And more importantly, will he let the circumstances dictate the course of his life again?

“Hurry to the hospital and donate your blood.” “Go to the hospital at once.” “Remember to donate blood at the hospital.” Even if she had already been donating blood for three times in the past few months, which then took a toll on her body, Huo Chuan never felt an ounce of pity for his so-called wife. After three years of marriage, Huo Chuan would only ever contact her to ask her to donate her blood to the hospital. No, accurately speaking, she was selling her blood. Selling it to Huo Chuan’s beloved woman, Bai Ting.

Yun Qing had been working hard to play the role of a good wife and secretary, but Huo Chuan’s family thought nothing of her. They were enigmatic and petty toward her. Yun Qing even had to do all the cleaning and cooking alone at home. Her existence was so menial that one would even assume she was a maid. In the company, everyone underestimated her. Yun Qing had had enough so she said, “Let’s divorce.” Perhaps she still had hope, but her husband’s reaction completely disappointed her. “What are you throwing a tantrum for? Name your price. The doctor says that Bai Ting is in a critical condition!” Huo Chuan’s mother said, “A lowly secretary like you should be grateful that you married into our Huo family, so why are you making a fuss?” Huo Chuan stared down at her. “I know that you’ve donated more blood this month, but I’ve transferred you the compensation fee! I can tolerate you asking for more, but I won’t tolerate your tantrum!” Looking at Huo Chuan’s mesmerizing features, Yun Qing laughed at herself. He was indeed charming, but he had never ever shown her a pleasant expression. Enduring the pain in her heart, Yun Qing insisted on going through the divorce with Huo Chuan. “Don’t you regret this, Yun Qing!” “Huo Chuan, the only thing I regret is agreeing to this marriage with you three years ago. This marriage had me all battered and bruised. Enough is enough!” For Huo Chuan, she gave up her status and ignored her family’s advice. She pounced at Huo Chuan like a moth to flames, only to receive his indifference and lack of affection in return.

After Yun Qing left the Huo family, she got into a luxurious car. Old Master Yun’s heart ached for his daughter. “Qingqing, you had a three-year agreement with me, that if he doesn’t love you, you will come home and inherit the company. Now, it’s time to uphold your promise.”

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.”