MTL - Professional Accomplishment Of A White Lotus - Chapter 117

Description: Travel through parallel worlds and become a billionaire that everyone admires. and many more? Why am I lying down? Still wearing an oxygen mask? Wait, why do I still have a cheap son? And he also flattered a woman from a small family? With Group Value…

- Description from novelbuddy

A person who lived the life to the maximum even being a person with paralysis, always played his favorite sport basketball, even if alone, follow the story of Jake Smith to be happy with a second chance.

There are only two destined outcomes for an illegitimate child of the Meng family.

One is to be useful and then being used to death. The other is to be exploited for being a useless person.

After being reborn, Meng Ting chooses the second option without the slightest hesitation.

As a result, he’s being married off.

“Oh.” =.=

***

This is a story of a beautiful young man who wants to become a degenerate after coming back to life from death, but is rejected by his upstanding husband in various ways.

This is a story of saving others, and being saved by others in return.

You are my beloved, and I am the light of your life.

Meng Ting: “Nonsense…”

Yan Sui: “Everything my wife says is correct.”

- 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.”