MTL - Their Commission Pay is Not Right - Chapter 1024

In her last life, Yu Lingxi fell from a myriad of stars that surrounded the moon into the dust, and was forced to sacrifice herself to the regent, Ning Yin.

The regent was born handsome and beautiful, but unfortunately he has a crippled leg. He was a twisted and cruel madman who killed his brothers and father.

What Yu Lingxi was most afraid of was that while wiping the fresh blood on his hands, he smiled and said to her: “Lingxi, come here.”

After only two years of marriage, Yu Lingxi passed away suddenly.

After her death, Ning Yin did not set up a mourning hall, did not make funeral arrangements and buried her, and became even more insane, slaughtering the city with blood.

Then she was reborn at fifteen years old, when she was still a high-ranking noble daughter of the general’s mansion, and Ning Yin was not yet the regent who covered the sky with one hand.

Unable to swallow this anger, Yu Lingxi took the guards to find Ning Yin, who was living on the street, and intended to beat him anonymously to avenge the resentment in her previous life.

Unexpectedly, when she rushed to the scene in anger, she saw the thin boy curled up and was being pressed to the ground, and his left leg was about to be broken. The muddy water was covered with blood and trickled down, soaking his dark and resentful eyes red…

Only then did she realize what a pitiful past Ning Yin had.

Yu Lingxi made a mistake due to a strange combination of circumstances, and instead of going to beat someone, she went to save him.

She had no choice but to take in the little poor boy and try her best to teach him to be an upright young man with a healthy body and mind.

To her surprise, as she taught and taught, the little poor boy looked at her with more gloomy and strange eyes.

- Description from Novelupdates

At nineteen, Dexter was already one of the world’s most celebrated authors. His books topped charts. Critics praised his genius. Fans devoured every word. But behind the acclaim was a lonely boy—raised without parents, love, or real friends—just stories.He published his first novel at fourteen. By seventeen, he was a literary star. But the higher he rose, the hollower it felt.Then came the writer’s block. The headaches. The blackout. And the transmigration.Dexter awoke in the body of Daylan, a disgraced young man in a crumbling, medieval world laced with steampunk tech, divine law, and political unrest. Daylan had already failed two of the three sacred Trials—rites that determine one’s magical potential. He was drowning in debt, entangled in plots to overthrow a corrupt Divine Church, and branded a lost cause.With no way back, Dexter took the final Trial—the most brutal of them all—and began a path that would earn him the whispered title: Soldier, Poet, King.But as his powers grew, one question haunted him: Did he truly die? And if so, who—or what—chose to bring him back?

Justin, a skilled gamer, is pulled through a dimensional gate into a dungeon resembling his favorite game—just three days before the end of the world. Faced with monsters and ancient magic, he rises from novice to the most feared dark magus , surpassing all others. Witness his unstoppable journey to ultimate power as he races against time and destiny.

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.”