MTL - Our Binding Love: My Gentle Tyrant - Chapter 2 Saved the lord

This is a rebirth story of a normal girl, Kylie. She was a normal girl, living a normal life. Married and had kids. Nothing outstanding about her, but nothing terrible either. Then she was attacked and left to die.

Her soul screamed in pain at having to leave behind two small children that needed her, yet she couldn't do anything. As she entered eternal darkness ... it took her some time to realise that she was not dead. She was alive, only yet to be born.

And she was a boy.

By the age of thirty, Chen Feng, who had contracted a terminal illness, saw his luck turn after getting divorced. Winning the lottery, encountering a wave of romantic interests, and ultimately even his illness was cured... How could all this happen? The extremely lucky Chen Feng felt somewhat overwhelmed.

“Be better”

Peter was cursed by those words, the very last words of his dying mother.

Cursed to be better. To be above the small squabbles... And so, the last five years of his childhood, he spent as a target of bullying, both in school and in his adoptive, step-family.

But it all changed, when a portal to another world appeared in the middle of his shed!

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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.”