MTL - The Rebirth of the National Goddess - Chapter 156 Just call Brother Peng (fourth more)

The overhead of the Tang Dynasty, the story of capturing the spirits.

“The stones on the other mountains are hard enough to carve and polish jade”.

To Prince Cheng, Lin Chengyou, Teng Yuyi is the piece of “jade” that he can not capture.

The proud son of the heavens is on the road to chase his wife to death.

- Description from Novelupdates

When Peter is transported to a brutal system-driven world, where stats, skills, and paths to power are granted upon turning eighteen... He gets nothing.Thrown into a military training regime where the weak are discarded and the strong survive, Peter should have been erased.Alongside Thea, a fierce warrior, and Elric a determined healer, Peter claws his way forward. Creating and rediscovering the secrets of Cultivation and World Force.But as he defies the rules of the world, the world starts to notice.

When Qiao Moyu awakened, she found herself in a novel world and had become the villainess who was loathed by the President, the story’s male protagonist.

Qiao Moyu, the President’s childhood friend, came to his door whilst holding a baby, but the man said he won’t take any responsibility since the child wasn’t his!

As she stared at her adorable and proud little toddler, Qiao Moyu decided to take this chance to raise her son while having a fresh start in her acting career. As for the other problems, she’ll just take it easy!

However, a few months later ~

President: “You’re not some disgusting mosquito blood, you’re my white moonlight (first love).”

Luo Luo: “Mama, he’s not Baobei’s father. Baobei doesn’t want him.”

A certain Film Emperor: “I want both you and the child.”

Online fans: “Qiao Moyu is ours!”

- 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.”