MTL - Evil Spirit World: I Push This World with My Flesh - Chapter 606 The Lord of the Heavenly Dao Palace is here!

Have you ever wondered about unpredictable life?

One minute everything is so good and then suddenly the next minute everything just turns around…

Anya Owen faced such times thrice in her life due to one person. Twice she survived and started leading a happy life with her darling son.

But could she survive the jeopardy he was going to cause again in her life?

Alvin Matthews, the most mysterious man in the city. Nobody knows where he is, what is up to, or what he does. Some even doubt if he is alive or dead.

Could he stop himself from falling for the little feisty woman?

Well, he never stops himself. But he doubted if he would get killed by the stone-hearted woman before he could soften her heart.

~~~

Excerpt:

Alvin watched Anya politely speaking with the butler. He leaned back on the armchair and crossed his legs, intently watching the soft smiles appearing on the delicate face.

“Hey, Little Chipmunk, why is your mother good to all but me?” He asked shifting his eyes on the little man who was crossing his little legs playing a video game on his mobile.

A sly smirk appeared on Zane’s face. He carelessly threw his words, “That’s what you deserve, Chipmunk Monster.”

Alvin: “...”

Alvin has to rack his brain to appease Little Monster... Correction, Little Master and his Devil… The second Correction, his Queen.

My name is Joelson, and I traversed across the world. I arrived at a continent of sword and magic and became a noble sorcerer.

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.”