MTL - King Who Will Cross - Chapter 938 paid service

Once upon a time, the Devil fell in love with one of the King’s many wives. One night he went to her room disguised as her husband and made love to her. She got pregnant with his child. Knowing this The King ordered her execution believing his wife cheated on him, but then the Devil appeared to the king making him a deal. In exchange for great power for his Kingdom, the King will let his wife Sire The Devil’s Child. The King who was greedy for power agrees to the deal and his Kingdom becomes one of the most powerful Kingdoms and the Devil’s Child, the seventh Prince of the Kingdom.

[Short Story] [Food Writing] [Sweet Little Cake] One day Ding Sha got transmigrated into a book, with a baby of unknown parentage in her belly.

Upon closer look, the baby turned out to be the male lead from a previous angsty novel she read.

A poor little thing unloved by his parents.

So impoverished that her stomach rumbled, but armed with superb cooking skills, she transformed herself from Ding Sha into the boxed lunch beauty at the construction site.

Kung pao chicken, garlic baby bok choy, spicy pork belly, tossed noodles – she cooked up a storm.

Before the construction workers could feel the stirrings of spring in their hearts, the baby’s father suddenly appeared.

Jun, carrying a travel bag stuffed full of cash, squatted outside the door gazing longingly at Ding Sha’s slightly bulging belly.

“Wife…I’m back…”

A 1v1 sweet doting story without abuse, a light and fluffy little sweet cake, safe for consumption.

Every hero starts with power. He started with dust.One moment, the classroom buzzed with teenage chatter. The next, silence fell. Students blinked—and opened their eyes in an ancient hall carved from gold and marble. The air shimmered with divine magic. And at its center stood a goddess—flawless, proud, unbelievably beautiful and wrapped in flowing white.It was a divine summoning performed by a divine goddess.Among them was Vritra… and his stunningly beautiful mother.While others received blessings, powerful physiques and grand titles, Vritra was given a skill so pathetic it made even the goddess wrinkle her nose. An ability—so pitifully weak that it drew laughter, scorn, and even disgust. But that wasn't the worst part.Betrayed and cornered inside the labyrinth, Vritra had two choices: die… or fall into the death trap.A death canopy with no exit and no chance of survival, the only option was to slaughter the demons endlessly for months.Finally!! He forced his dormant skill to awaken, after killing thousands and hundreds of thousands demons and devouring them, becoming a broken ability.******White robes. Cold arroganceA sinful revenge.White robes can stain. And in the dark, even divinity can moan.And then there was his mo— guilt in her breath, shame in her eyes, whispering apologies between gasps in her son's ear, doing what had to be done… for both their sakes.

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.”