MTL - It’s a Stepmother, Not a Sister [70s] - Chapter 93 heart warm

As the eldest daughter of the Yang Family's main branch, Yang Ruxin's pleasure was building the family fortune and supporting her younger siblings. But why was that blind and lame guy such a Relentless Spirit?When she cooked, he would come to light the fire;When she set up her stall, he would follow to hawk her goods...“I say, Mr. Gu, do you have to help with everything I do?” Yang Ruxin asked with a hint of annoyance.“Yes,” Mr. Gu nodded earnestly.“Then right now I want to...”“Wife.” Mr. Gu hurriedly stood up from his wheelchair, “as long as we don't part, I'll give you anything you want.”

Adrien’s tale is a thunderous symphony of vengeance, mystery, and ascension. Awakened with no memory but wielding a shadow-forged blade, he traverses a fractured world where gods rule through fear and silence. His forgotten blood burns with the legacy of the Godslayers—beings once feared even by the divine. As he hunts corrupted gods and unearths shards of unimaginable power, Adrien evolves from a wandering enigma to a force capable of defying fate itself. Twisting through betrayal, hidden empires, and awakening legends, his journey is not just one of survival, but of reclaiming divinity to break the sky itself.

The legendary Qin Chen from the Tianwu Continent accidentally fell into the Martial Domain because of his friend’s betrayal.

Three hundred years later, he was reincarnated on an illegitimate son of the royal palace who had been bullied.

He used his previous life accomplishments, concentrating on his skills, refining the pill, and rising against the sky, rising strongly, and embarking on a shocking journey that shocked the mainland.

- Description from MTL

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.”