MTL - Help! My Delicate Object is a Madman - Chapter 159 what to do with you

Meng Yang had done a lot of s*upid and wrong things in his life. Jumping around like a clown, annoying and unpleasant. Only after his tragic death did he know that he was a cannon fodder written in a book who only existed to set off the protagonist shou.

Swordmaster Karyl MacGovern.

He returned to the past, wanting to rewrite the future he was unable to change with his sword alone. And this time, he would acquire the power that once eluded him—magic.

This time, he would master both sword and magic, and stand on the peak.

Lin Qingge’s body was pathetically weak, so weak that just taking a few steps would make him gasp for breath. His own family treated him like he didn’t exist. His birth mother died when he was young and his father promptly remarried and knocked his stepmom up. His father didn’t like him, his stepmom looked askance at him and his step siblings coveted his position. Who told him to be the lawful eldest with inheritance rights?

When Lin Qingge was eighteen he came out of the closet, creating a huge rift between him and his family. It was all for that guy, Liu Yang. He’d whispered sweet nothings in his ear, saying things like he’d protect him and bs like that. Lin Qingge’s old man blew his top when he found out and promptly disowned him. That didn’t matter to Lin Qingge, he had Liu Yang afterall. He fully believed in that guys words and goodwill.

If only he wasn’t so stupid…

Ultimately Liu Yang was like a vampire sucking his wealth dry, leaving a husk behind. After pushing Liu Yang to a high position, Lin Qingge finally collapsed in his apartment. It was a sad sorry sight. Closing his eyes, he knew this was the end of him. Who knew he would wake up instead in a different time and a different place?

Eh? What’s this? Well fine! This time I’m gonna hug that brother’s thigh real tight and never let go!

- Description from Novelupdates

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.