MTL - The Strongest Arms Dealer - Chapter 989 : Boss Tang is also a young man

Countless planets, endless cultivation.

The struggle for the Dao has persisted for thousands of years.

Miao Xiaojing, a junior disciple of the Evolutionary Immortality Sect, suffered the destruction of his sect, and was thrown into the vast river of fate.

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Feng Zao, the Earth pharmacist who somehow traveled to the Zerg, reluctantly accepted the fact.

Met the other half who wants to start a family and want to be together forever. Then started the road of romantic love wife.

The Zerg native resident Hughes is tall and tall. Because his appearance is not the type that male insects like and his personality is dull, he always thought that he would be assigned to the male insect by the main brain system.

The first time I saw Hughes, Feng Zao’s eyes lit up: This is the sportsman I like, ah, damn it! How can I get in touch with him.

It was the first time that Hughes had red ears, and he pretended to be calm, but his heart kept beating: This male is so cute, I want to rua~

“Hugh, let’s have an egg, okay? We also have a baby bug, preferably one that looks like you.”

“…Listen to the hero,” he said in his heart: it’s better to be like the hero, the miniature version of the hero must be cute.

One day, Hughes received another call from the Bug Cub Academy.

“Master, the little worm is in trouble again”

Content tags: Childbirth Interstellar Sweet Text

Search keywords: Protagonist: Feng Zaoxius ┃ Supporting role: Kodak Anwen ┃ Others: Gentle, inferior and sweet pet

One sentence introduction: I just want a sweet life

Concept: A happy little romance can always be found in a plain and simple life.

- Description from novelbuddy

After Kama Taj learned magic for ten years… He Shenyan realized.

It turns out that I can’t go home, it’s not me, it’s the things you teach here!

goodbye!

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”