MTL - There is a Fairy Tower In Baiyun’s Birth Place - Chapter 25 Ask for directions

Mu Jingzhe transmigrates into a book filled with sweet, doting love to become the useless supporting character who serves as a foil to the female lead. She also becomes the stepmom of five kids to her recently deceased husband.

Gu Bailu has transmigrated. She was in Dubai one second ago, but the next thing she knew, she finds herself in a deep, dark forest. To make things worse, her body has been poisoned and s*x is the only antidote. Thinking that she will die in the middle of nowhere, she somehow runs into a handsome guy who’s semi-conscious. Eager to rescue herself, Gu Bailu lies him down, not realizing that he is Prince Zi, a powerful and brutal man who has killed every woman that had approached him. Her life is saved, but she can’t get away from him…

After transmigrating, Liu Changqing skipped over the dating phase and was thrust straight into fatherhood with a son and a daughter. This left him in a gloomy state. His eldest son is mature and intelligent, while his young daughter, resentful of her parents’ divorce, blames Liu Changqing for everything and treats him with hostility.The original owner of this body was the ultimate “simp.” He grovelled so much that his ex-mother-in-law’s single agreement allowed his ex-wife to take away all the family assets in exchange for custody of their two children.Now, with his factory bankrupt, Liu Changqing is racking his brain over how to raise his son and daughter. This has become his biggest headache.——————————————No reconciliation, no groveling, and firmly grounded values.

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.”