MTL - Rebirth: Noble Woman, Poisonous Concubine - v2 Chapter 20 Shao

I was born in Japan and inherited a temple at the beginning.The system is activated at the beginning, which can enhance everything.“Ordinary Buddhist Scripture” enhanced to “Medicine Buddha Sutra”Recite the sutra ten thousand times, and you will become a Vajra!“Vajra Pestle” strengthens “Vajra Indestructible Root”The most rigid and masculine, indestructible!“Eight Divisions of Heavenly Dragons” enhanced to “Great Heavenly Dragon Visualization Method”Great Heavenly Dragon, Prajna Buddha!The widow haunted by evil spirits, the eight-foot-tall adult…“I don’t know if I can bear it.”“Demon, I want you to help me practice!”

All Ewan Giacometti wants from his wife is a son. But after three years of unhappiness and disillusionment, Athena Moore is ready to leave her ice cold husband. When she finally asks for a divorce, Ewan’s cunny ‘best friend’ frames her, driving her out of the city. Now, Ewan is left to confront his true feelings about his wife, whom he had married under mysterious circumstances, especially when she returns from exile a changed woman.

A failed investor from 2017 got drunk and woke up in the 1980s. China is just opening up, and the economy is blooming. There is also the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the bursting of the Dot-com bubble and other financial crisis. He used his knowledge of the future and slowly build up his empire.

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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.”