MTL - Within Ten Meters, Fly In Situ - Chapter 48 "You want to marry me?"

One day, Yoichi who grew up while not knowing his parents has received the news of his father’s death. His father left behind a testament——which said he is to pick only one out of five ‘little sister candidates’?!

Chi Yan had always had a weak constitution, and ghosts had always tried to kill him. He had tried many ways to change his situation, but it was all futile.

Coincidentally, Third Master Ye of Shiming City passed away, and a priest informed Chi Yan that Third Master Ye possessed the “look of demon,” Carrying a bit of this man’s ashes and installing an altar for him at home could help control the evil spirits around Chi Yan.

Left with no choice, Chi Yan took a gamble. Amazingly, it worked. However he didn’t expect that he’d be instead be haunted by the most persistent ghost of them all.

Obsessed with love, undying resentment, possessed by evil.

- Description from Novelupdates

ive years ago, the Ye family was destroyed, and the waste Ye Chen was ridiculed like a worm on the ground!

Five years later, the Ye family trash came back! He came back with a cultivating base of weeping ghosts and gods!

This time, Ye Chen wanted to let the sky awe! Let the earth tremble! Be in charge of everything and reach the top of the sky!

This is an extremely arrogant story that pretends to be a pig and eat a tiger!

PS: This book is guaranteed! Another 4 million words best-selling fire book is being serialized!

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.”