MTL - The Martial Emperor with Dragon Blood - v8 Chapter 5309 : rushing into the ruins

As a true over-bearing president scum gong, when Xie He for the Nth time rejected his admirer, he heard a sentence in his head: “Congratulations on achieving the “rejects 100 hosts” accomplishment; as an award you will soon bind to the “Scum Gong and Cheap Shou” system, entering other worlds to complete capture missions.

As a scum gong, Xie He expresses that it is very easy to hide one’s true colors, but…“I Heard My Boyfriend’s Brother Secretly Loves Me,” “Teacher Love Me One More Time,” “Raising Youth Manual,” “Your Majesty, This Servant Obeys,” “The Tyrant Lord’s Substitute Lover,” “Captive of the Empire,” “Disciple’s Cultivation Furnace”…

Xie He: Wait a minute. These words sound really strange… and why is my role the ‘cheap shou’?

System: Fighting poison with poison. Using scum to overcome scum. I’ll be relying on you to abuse the scum gong! Remember to not OOC~

Xie He: He he.

Later…

Xie He: Hm? You say all the scum gong love me? Sorry, I only love myself.

- Description from Novelupdates

Though it felt a little awkward to be my good brother’s aunt, it was really exciting to find out how handsome and rich his uncle was.

- Description from Novelupdates

Luo Fei does not fear being rivals in love with Xi Yanqing; what he fears is that they have transmigrated to ancient times and become betrothed to each other!

Father Luo: Eh?! Not getting married? How about I break your legs if you don’t get married?!

Luo Fei: Dad, ahh, Dad! Aiyo, stop beating me now! I’ll just go get married okay?

Xi Yanqing: You know that you can’t escape and now you’ll have to pay for it. Did you leave without bringing your IQ?

Luo Fei: You with the surname Xi doesn’t have to sleep on the bed on the wedding night!

Xi Yanqing: Oh.

Luo Fei Who on His Wedding Night was Pressed to the Trunk of a Peach Tree at the Entrance: …f**k you surnamed Xi! This isn’t what I meant!!!

- 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.”