MTL - Way of the Devil - Chapter 1127 Crush one

“I’ll clear your mother’s debt entirely. In return, you’ll marry me.”“Are you out of your mind? Do you really think I’d agree to such an absurd proposal?”“Possibly. But it’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. You keep your shop, and I get what I need.”“And what exactly is it that you need?”“That’s none of your concern. All you need to know is that this deal benefits both of us.”Two years ago, Lunara entered a marriage she never wanted. Desperate to save her mother’s flower shop, she was cornered by Eryx, a man with a hidden agenda. With no other choice, she agreed, and found herself bound to him in a transaction of convenience—he needed something from her, and she needed him to prevent her world from falling apart.But after the papers were signed, he disappeared without a word, leaving her with nothing but unanswered questions and lingering bitterness.Now, fate has thrown them together once more but with a cruel twist, Eryx doesn’t remember her at all.Lunara believes she’s long since moved on. But when she sees him again, a stranger who has no recollection of their past, old wounds resurface. What was the truth behind their marriage? And why, despite the resentment, does her heart still stir when he’s near?

The pessimistic and negative daughter of a concubine living in the ancient times thought – since life is so difficult, why should one invest serious effort in struggling to live?

The life of an ancient noble woman is often determined and controlled by her family. Moreover, one’s actions often implicate one’s entire family – thus, it is fairly common to see an unexpected calamity result in suffering borne by one’s whole family. Managing to live a good and successful life while retaining one’s dignity is simply too difficult to achieve.

Ah, living in the ancient times is simply too dangerous – we should all just sleep till we die.

After his soul transmigrated into the world of Teyvat, Luo Qing was selected to become the new Trainee Fatui Harbinger, and he was about to be sent to Liyue on a diplomatic mission (to cause chaos). To his surprise, he awakened a “Frustration Value Collection System” — as long as he frustrated others, he could collect frustration points, which he could use to participate in a lottery.As he stared at the list of items in the lottery interface, Luo Qing fell deep in thought:“Spirit Speech: Time Zero,” “Multi-Shadow Clone Technique,” “Thunder Breathing Style,” “Golden Experience Requiem,” “Railgun,” “Gomu Gomu no Mi...”Why on earth were these things appearing in the world of Teyvat?!Given the notorious reputation of a Harbinger, Luo Qing knew that if he didn’t grow strong, he was certainly doomed to a miserable end. Thus, his style became... increasingly abstract...---Years later, to prevent the infamous Fatui Harbinger, Luo Qing, from causing havoc everywhere, the people and political leaders of the Seven Nations united to issue a formal protest to Snezhnaya.In response, the Fatui in Snezhnaya issued an official statement:“This Harbinger is only a trainee. He has been dismissed.”

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.”