MTL - I Plunder Endlessly In the Interstellar Age - Chapter 390 trick

The romance between young Ronan Silverback and his fated mate Lucien Clearwater ended before it had the chance to bloom. Since they were both in line to become Alphas of their packs and neither of them was willing to step back to be with each other, Ronan ended up rejecting Lucien and ending their fated mate connection.

Seven years later, Alpha Ronan Silverback happened to meet Lucien Clearwater again. The latter not only was not the Alpha of his pack, but he also ended up accepting the affection of the Alpha of Ronan’s rival pack.

“We have broken up,” Lucien reminded Ronan. “Seven years ago, if you recall.”

“You are mine, Lucien Clearwater,” Ronan declared with a husky voice. “In this life or any life, you can only be mine. I will not let anyone else touch you.”

Warning : Mature content, genre-typical violence and sexual content. There is a mention of miscarriage. A lot of drama. Naturally it will end in a Happy Ending.

Framed for something she did not do which resulted in her only son’s death, she was abandoned by her husband. Reborn after an accident, the eighteen-year-old Ye Tianxin swore to reclaim her life. Then, due to an unexpected twist of fate, she saved the life of a powerful man and her new destiny was rewritten!

Here, only those with spiritual roots can cultivate while those with mortal roots are destined to stay mortal.

Mo Wuji only has mortal roots, but will he only remain as a mortal?

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.”