MTL - Want to Ascend? Then Fall in Love - Chapter 153 One hundred fifty three

A noisy little family, a cheerful group of classmates, and a boy, born on the first year of the lunar calendar living a never changing life. Then one day he notices a girl in his class shrouded in mystery. Her name is Makina. However, the boy just can’t seem to bring himself to talk to Makina. Then one day, before the first lunar calendar month, another mysterious beauty appears. Her name is Rushia, and as she leans in as if she is going to kiss him, she tells him about a mysterious power hidden inside him called the “Snake Eyes.”

Ms Shen goes about her usual days while Mr Bo flirts with her relentlessly.

Traveling to the world of Hokage, Kamiyo Colt witnessed the chaos of the Nine Tails firsthand.Without any special powers initially, he planned to develop quietly and survive until the Infinite Tsukuyomi. However, when he first trained his Chakra, his system finally activated.The system's rules were simple:By healing others, he could gain random attributes and skills.“Heal Uzumaki Naruto to receive pure Ashura Chakra!”“Heal Uchiha Shisui to gain his bloodline talent!”“Heal Sasuke Uchiha to obtain pure Indra Chakra!”In this way, Colt steadily developed his abilities over more than ten years.During the Fourth Ninja World War, when the ninja coalition saw him suddenly knock out the Six Paths Madara with a single punch, he looked innocently back at them.“What? I'm a medical ninja. Doesn't it make sense to defeat him with one punch?”

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.”