MTL - The Peasant Girl’s Splendid Manor - Chapter 1092 resettlement, rescue people

For Marco, Lucas is his meek little brother. For the rest of the world, he is the menacing Ghost of Vermil.“Angels endow blessings. Demons sow curses.” A hundred years ago, angels and demons descended on earth. It is said they are still here.Annointed with potent holy power, Marco is set to join the Kingdom's Holy Army to fight off the demonic legion. But before that, he must confront the trail of blood and ash that points to Lucas's involvement with the dark side.As mysteries unfold and loyalties fracture, Marco is faced with the question: where does holiness end and damnation begin? If all lines are blurred and the fate of humanity is at stake, will he have enough resolve to strike down the brother he once swore to protect?

If you had the chance to go back a few years, relive your life, and rewrite your story—armed with a mysterious system designed to help you achieve your dreams—what would you do?This is the tale of Park Adan, a boy who met a tragic and humiliating end, crushed by a falling billboard on his way home. But fate wasn’t done with him yet.Adan wakes up in his bed, three years in the past, with a second chance to change everything. And this time, he’s not alone. With a system to guide him, his journey to rewrite his life begins—filled with challenges, opportunities, and a quest for redemption.Will he succeed in shaping the future he desires, or will the past catch up with him again?

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.”