MTL - Dragon Martial Emperor - v3 Chapter 130 Blood dragon, axe

Married for three years, they appeared to be deeply in love in public, but behind closed doors, he treated her with cold indifference.Having had enough of his neglect, she handed him a divorce agreement and left him.Unexpectedly, the usually aloof Chairman Xu began acting like a rascal post-divorce, visiting daily to mooch food and drink, and even wanting to share her bed?Outsiders all say, “Chairman Xu has deep feelings for his ex-wife, even after divorce he can't forget her and spoils her to no end.”

“Honey, be good…Give me your phone…”

“No, no!” The internet-addict girl clutched onto her phone, determined not to give him.

The handsome and noble man slightly sighed. He lowered his body to hug the girl.

“You’re not listening again, hm?” She immediately handed her phone over cowardly as he said so in a clear and distinct voice.

He was the eminent and noble Master Li, a powerful figure in the business world.

She was just from a normal family that suffered from her stepmother’s schemes, a pitiful girl.

An accident made him appear in her world.

Since then, everyone in S City knew that Master Li had a treasure and cherished her dearly. He feared that she might be wronged in the tiniest bit. He will personally tutor her in her studies, personally be her training partner in video games, and even reserve the movie theaters for her movies.

- 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.”