MTL - Whispering Verse - Chapter 1557 handkerchief

“I’m very talented, and I get twice the result with half the effort.”

“I am a genius that is rare to see in a hundred years, extraordinary in ten years, and holy in thirty.”

“My blood is against the sky, and I was born to be a king.”

Watching a group of geniuses arguing, Han Xu slowly closed his eyes and basked in the sun before falling asleep.

Diligence, perseverance, talent, resources, and opportunities are indispensable for the cultivation of others.

And he just needs to wait quietly for the skill to download.

A life without cultivation should be so unpretentious and boring.

- Description from novelbuddy

In the age of the Great Liang Dynasty, the lives of the people were made convenient with steam-powered machines that run on a fuel named Violetstream Gold. Chang Geng, who lived in a small countryside village, shared a distant relationship with his mother while his stepfather was away most of the year round, and the only people he was close to were two little kids, the village teacher, and his yi fu – adoptive father. But his life was flipped upside down one day following the barbaric Man tribes’ invasion, and it turned out that his entire identity had been an illusion – not only was Chang Geng himself not the country boy he thought he was, but also his mother, his teacher, and even his beloved yi fu…

“The Fang family had two daughters. Their youngest daughter, Fang Yan, was known for her beauty. Rumor had it that she was indescribably beautiful. However, the eldest daughter of the Fang family, Fang Liu, had a low IQ since she was young and only started to speak when she was eight years old. Her parents regarded her as a burden while the outside world treated her as a laughing stock.

However, no one knew that Fang Liu was an ultimate prodigy whose intelligence merely developed late. Afterward, Fang Liu got pregnant for no reason. Four months into her pregnancy, her parents forced her to marry the richest man in South City, the Mo family. Rumors had it that her husband was an old man who had been paralyzed in bed since the age of seven. Unexpectedly, when Fang Liu married into the Mo family, she found out that not only was her husband not an old man, he was also extremely handsome.

He was the Young Master of the Mo family that everyone admired—Mo Yu! Moreover, Fang Liu’s child was not even Mo Yu’s, but Young Master Mo did not seem to mind? Mo Yu even declared in front of everyone, “”Although the child isn’t mine, the wife is mine!”” Everyone else, “”Young Master Mo is too honest!”” After Fang Liu got married, Young Master Mo doted on her so much that even she was moved. She had found a great stepfather for her child! A few months later, Fang Liu looked at her newborn’s face and it nearly felt like she was looking at a miniature version of Mo Yu. Fang Liu, “”Didn’t you claim that the child isn’t yours?”” Mo Yu shrugged. “”I was just spouting nonsense.”” It turned out that there was no such thing as the right person at the right time at the right place. It was all premeditated. “”It’s because I love you that I’ve tried everything I can; I endured all the criticism for my only wish is to have you as mine.

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.”