MTL - From Arms Dealer To King of War - Chapter 577 die and die

A new law has been passed as part of the nation's measures to address the low birthrate.Rude women become livestock.Rebellious women become livestock.Women who commit crimes become livestock.In a world where common sense has been distorted, this is the story of women whose human rights have been erased.

I reincarnated as the wife of the cursed archduke in my own twisted novel.

As the author, I have a responsibility to fix this novel.

I have lifted the curse, which is the main problem of this story.

I thought my job was done. But when I was trying to go back, the archduke asked me, “Did you really think I wouldn’t know that you’re planning on returning to your fiance?”

‘My fiance?’

What I’m gonna do? He completely misunderstood the situation!

All I want is for him to please let me go home!

Liu Xu’er had once hoped that if she were to be reborn, she would be born to old money, and have a rich, handsome and tall husband. That way, she could have a carefree life of luxury!

Then she actually was reborn…. to a family that had been poor for generations, and lost her rich, handsome and tall husband.

Wait, why does this little husband sound so familiar?

Surely it can’t be…. Liu Xu’er helplessly thought – Heaven, must he too be sent here? Would it have been so difficult to have given me a different husband…

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”