MTL - After Abusing Me: Brothers Cried and Begged For Forgiveness - Chapter 169 excellent

The most domineering, arrogant and beautiful Omega in the Tarot Empire, Le Yao was arranged to marry General Xu Yao, who was known as the ruthless King of Hell.

In the 21st century, divine physician Qian Jiujiu was targeted by a bomb when she was rescuing soldiers in the battlefield. Because of the bomb, she crossed the to a new state and became the second daughter of concubine in Qian familiy. Because the taoists asserted that she would “curse parents”. Therefore, she was sent to village outside capital for 16 years not long after rebirth. This time, her father took her home, just to let her marry Mu Yexiao instead of her lineal sister.

Who is Mu Yexiao? The sixth prince of the state, the favorite prince of the emperor. Because he was injured in the battlefield, his legs were disabled, and he was unable to bear children. In anciet time, he also failed to seek effetive medical treatment. The royal family decided to marry the legitimate daughter of Qian families to Mu Yexiao, in order to drive away bad luck.

However, as a modern doctor who combines traditional Chinese and Western medicine, Qian Jiujiu won’t obedient to fate? She used her wonderful medical skills to heal the Mu Yexiao’s disabled legs, hoping this prince could support her. But who knows he was very shrewd! Who yielded to whom? It’s difficult to say.

- Description from Novelupdates

Who says that after rebirth, you have to slap faces, abuse scum, and revolve around enemies and men!Revenge is just incidental! Slapping faces and abusing scum are not the main battlefield of life!After being reborn, of course, you have to live out your own wonderful life, otherwise, it would be a waste of the chance of rebirth.

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.”