MTL - After Becoming a Taoist - Chapter 15 Big brother! My nephew is hot!

Lin Xiao Ci transmigrated! Her identity is a female villain in a novel in the ancient times. In order to get close to the male lead, her character has walked the path of seeking death. She decided to stay away from the male lead and his family, cherishing her life. Speedily, she prepared divorce papers and delivered to the male lead who had been set up by the original villain to marry her. “Husband, I would like to turn over a new leaf. In the past I have used you and I have wronged you. Now, I will return you your freedom.” The man snatched and tore the divorce papers into pieces, and fiercely said “Dream on!”

- Description from Novelupdates

The obsessed Big Brother, the loyal God, the yandere Vampire, the cold Honor’s Student…

When a grand variety of Prince Charmings arrive continuously, what should a person feel like? Luo Liyan held her poor aching waist, raised her head to the skies and sighed, give them to whoever wants them!

“What, want to run after seducing me?” That man with strong possessiveness approached little by little, trapping her in a corner. “Little Yan, what type do you like? I can always satisfy you, as long as you stay at my side!”

Looking at that man who seemed more devilish the more he smiled, Luo Liyan trembled as she hugged herself.

Cries… So terrifying. Who the hell forcefully gave and took like this guy?

- Description from Novelupdates

France, 1934. The scars of the Great War still shape the military minds of the Third Republic. Trapped in the past, its generals place their faith in fortifications and defensive warfare, while across the Rhine, a new German army rises, faster, deadlier, and ready to crush everything in its path.Into this world awakens Captain Étienne Moreau, a man who should not exist. He remembers another life, one where France falls in 1940, where German tanks storm through the Ardennes, bypassing the Maginot Line. One where his country surrenders in a matter of weeks.But here, now, he has a chance to stop it.As an officer in the 2nd Armored Division, he fights for reforms: pushing for mobile tank warfare, warning of Hitler’s growing ambitions, and challenging the high command’s obsession with World War I tactics. Yet, his ideas are dismissed as radical, madness from a young officer who “thinks he knows war.”Surrounded by political intrigue, military infighting, and rising fascism, Moreau must carefully navigate the system, winning allies among future leaders like Charles de Gaulle, while avoiding suspicion from the French High Command. His knowledge is a double-edged sword, if he is too aggressive, he risks being labeled a traitor. If he does nothing, he will live to see France burn.As war draws closer, Moreau faces a terrifying question: Can history be changed? Or is France doomed to fall, no matter what he does?Time is running out. The Blitzkrieg is coming. And he may be France’s last chance to fight back.

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.”