MTL - The Divine Doctor and Stay-at-home Dad - Chapter 893 Freshman ratio

What is a genius? Capable of comprehending any battle skill regardless of the skill itself and sweeping away the bottlenecks while cultivating a new technique; this is a true genius! He Yiming was originally an ordinary youngster in the He family’s estate with not too extraordinary aptitude in learning martial arts.

One night she gets drunk and mistakes the most well-known Mafia boss for a host and intends to sleep with him.

Oh my! What should I do? It’s best to run away!

- Description from Novelupdates

Elementals, Enhancers, Beast Tamers, Artifact Nurturers – These four pathways define the magical world of Arcanists. But Finn, a former university student from earth, wakes up in a body treading a whole different path…A forbidden path: The path of a Soul Mage.Soul Mages are the ultimate parasites. They lack the ability to use magic themselves, but instead, wield the power to assimilate the mana-saturated souls of the dead.From every Great Arcanist that once lived, to every Calamity Beast, to every Mythic Grade Spirit Artifact… So long as they were dead, they were simply chaotic souls waiting to be claimed.​But this kind of power does not come without cost. Madness, frenzy, mania, innate wills and primal desires of assimilated souls threaten to drive Soul Mages to total corrosion.In this new world, ​Finn finds himself thrown into the deep end, waking up as a Vessel already housing a full Parade of Chaotic Souls. Now, his body is a battlefield. The souls demand immediate payment, stacking Soul Debts that steal his senses, his consciousness, and his very humanity.​But yet… it is this same overwhelming corrosion that causes the ultimate truth and uniqueness of his soul to surface…

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.”