MTL - Young Military Rarities - Chapter 459 Converging large troops, heading northeast

We’ve come to a world where the roles of men and women have been reversed. So, of course, women will rush to us. “You don’t have to bring water.” “Oh, okay…” …I guess I’ll just have to live the way I always have.

Everyone knew that after the young lady Miss Shen was abandoned by a wild man, she became self-indulgent and fell pregnant without marrying.

After she was driven out of her house, she fell into a state of despair.

The infamous Shen Ruojing, however, appeared at the birthday banquet of the Chu family’s old madam. Everyone taunted her. “

The ones who send millions in gift money sit at one table, while those who send tens of millions in gift money sit at the other.”

“Miss Shen, how much did you give?”

The crowd waited for her to make a fool of herself, but Shen Ruojing pulled out an adorable little boy from behind her and said, “Excuse me Madam, which table will your eldest grandson sit at?”

*** Both mother and son were brought into the Chu family, and Shen Ruojing wanted to spend her daze lazing about, but was met with rejection from the family in various ways.

“We have first-class hackers, music masters, tech experts… Everyone is well-known in this family. What do you bring?”

Shen Ruojing rubbed her chin.

“Well, all of those things you mentioned… I know a little bit of everything.”

Her three adorable babies stood beside her and nodded in unison,

“We can testify that Mommy does know a little bit of everything!”

Xiaya reincarnated in the Dragon Ball Universe as a Saiyan 12 years before the destruction of Planet Vegeta.

Watch him as he creates the strongest legend of Dragon Ball World from the beginning.

- 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.”