MTL - Not Spare the Years - Chapter 96

Su Xiaoxiu failed the college entrance exam and was admitted to a private university instead. Looking at the expensive tuition bill, her whole family was worried about how to pay for it. Should she take a gap year and retake the exam?

Just then, she suddenly got a progress system that gave her money every time she walked somewhere?! Looking at the large amount of money in the system, she was determined to improve herself and contribute something useful to society.

Qin Yi used to think that cultivation was all about a peaceful mind and the indifference towards fame and wealth. He is ready to abandon all mortal desires and enjoy eternal solitude when he later realizes that he is a human after all, and on the lonely cultivation path, he could really use the warmth of another pair of arms…

Of his companions, the prince wants to rebuild his kingdom; the princess is looking forward to her heroic life; the priestess needs to experience the secular world; the “dumb snake” could use a confidence boost; and his “clubbie” wants a human form.

But would everyone get what they wanted?

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[‘Lightning Magic Primer’ has been consumed. Your understanding is very high.]

[The 2nd Circle magic ‘Lightning Bolt’ has been acquired.]

The unprecedented magician who will eat all the magic books of the world has appeared.

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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.”