MTL - Meeting A Demonic Cultivator, Even God Cries - Chapter 149 Your soul

Seven days remained until the countdown to genetic mutation.Seven days later, all creatures on Earth would undergo mutations. Giant mutated creatures would swarm and attack humanity, putting their fate in jeopardy. The entire Earth would be ruled by these mutated beings!Yang Xiao accidentally walked into a genetic store where various gene potions were sold, capable of altering human body functions.From that moment on, he embarked on a crazy journey of genetic evolution.

Odelia Grace, a beautiful and smart woman, a secretary of a big company, had to give up the career she had at a young age for a marriage with the CEO of another company, Vincent Percy.The marriage was filled with love and support for each other for 4 years. However, they did not have a child.Vincent's family became furious, and continued to demand and pressure Odelia. A beautiful marriage turned into a nightmare because of their abuse.“You barren woman! My son is jinxed because of you, he shouldn't have married you in the first place!” snapped her mother-in-law.Until one day, Odelia was kicked out of her own house and went to a hotel for the night. She accidentally met a man who was drunk.Unintentionally, there was a hot night between the two of them.And after that night, Odelia finally realized that she was not barren and that she was carrying a baby.The baby of her ex-husband's enemy, Sean Osbert.

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.”

The summer I was 17. A painting I created was sold. For 1.4 billion won.