MTL - Addicted Pampering You: The Mysterious Pampered Wife of The Military Ye (Master Fu's Mysterious Darling Wife) - Chapter 452 Strange man

She died in her prime as the Queen of Song.

After being reincarnated, she becomes a simple trainee.

Losing her former glory? It doesn’t matter—no one can compete with her voice as a beautiful singer.

Mocked by her lowly birth? It doesn’t matter—her true identity is enough to make the whole world tremble.

She owes huge debts? It doesn’t matter…

A powerful boss once whispered to her, “Your debt will disappear if you become my woman.”

But the proud her would reply, “I’m sorry. I would sell my art, but not myself.”

The person with the best martial art skill in the world, whose prestige is unparalleled. The head disciple of TianQing sect, the leading sect of all Six Great sects, and Jianghu’s number one, Ming ChangYan shaoxia.

During a decisive battle, he slipped and fell.

His ten years of cultivation was completely annihilated and reduced to a normal human.

Fortunately, he was lucky enough to have fate decide that his life shouldn’t end there, and he survived.

The doctor told him, “To gain back your cultivation, enter the palace as a concubine!”

In order to get the medical herb that was given to the emperor by the XiYu Region, the immortal’s grass, Ming shaoxia could only wear a skirt, apply makeup, endure the humiliation, suffer patiently, and join the palace drama.

Ming ChangYan: This shaoxia is shameless.

Unfortunately, just as he dressed up in drag and entered the palace, he meets the man he once picked up from under a mountain.

…..

Ming ChangYan: I was joking just now…..this is too shameless!

If I were to be found out by him, my (old) number one reputation would go down the drain!

- Description from Novelupdates

Once an unsung slave; Yur’s existence was defined by blood, pain, and chains. That was until he stumbled into Zulmasharr, the realm of demons.In the depths of despair and agony, a near-death encounter unsealed the terrifying truth of his existence; he is no mere mortal. A cursed hybrid of human and demon; Yur’s survival was only possible through the bloody rebirth of his Ashkavaal bloodline and the awakening of his sinister cultivation system, Zul.With Zul, Yur can rear demons for rituals, harvest their power, and dominate the chaotic world around him. But freedom comes at a cost. As the incognizant successor to an ancient being, his every step is burdened by the weight of a destiny he never asked for. Yur craves only one thing: to stay free, unbound by demons and men. Yet his growing power and severed bloodline ignite the fascination of forces that would see him enslaved or slaughtered.Yur must steer through a world of demons where trust is a fault, survival is animus, and his very existence is a blemish. Blood will pour, flames will revolt, and demons... they kneel or die. But in the end, is freedom attainable for the bearer of a bloodline forged from blood and ash?Will Yur vanquish his fate or will it condemn him?

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.”