MTL - As the Minor Gay Rival in Het Novels - Chapter 59

“God, please. If you are real, make my one last wish come true. Let me live.”When Callisto got diagnosed with an incurable genetic disorder at age 5, she was expected to live for only ten more years.With her life on its last leg, Callisto underwent an operation that has a one in a million chance of success called the Mutated DNA Fusion, granting her wish to live. However, the operation gave her more than what she wished for.With her black hair turned silver, cat ears overhead, and a tail from her behind, Callisto now has to live her life as a half-human and half-animal, a catgirl.

When Song Qinghan woke up, he found that he had not only transmigrated into another world, but also… had a ball in his stomach. He thought the original owner of this body had left a total mess to him. But it turned out there was a piece of precious jade hidden in it. Looking at the six-pack abs of Wu Dahu, he rubbed his hands with great excitement. Farming, your job! Hunting, your job! Giving birth, ahem, you worked hard! But surgery… leave it to me!

Jiang Su transmigrated.

He transmigrated into a BL harem novel as the novel’s main character, jianghu’s number one beauty, who bewitches the masses with just his face, then is subjected to shame, humiliation, and infamy at the end.

To prevent this from happening, Jiang Su diligently practiced his swordsmanship. But then he suddenly realized…If he is still single when the original storyline ends, he will be forced to return to his original world.

Jiang Su: ……

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”