MTL - Live Beautification System - Chapter 425 The proud Ding Mu

One morning, Gu Tiantian wakes up to find her innocence gone—and her temper flaring.Every time she glares at him, cheeks flushed with outrage, Bai Chenyao cocks an eyebrow.“You don’t want this?” he asks, voice cool.“I never did!” she snaps.His only rule: her consent is optional; his desire is not.Cue Gu Tiantian’s inner scream: Then why even ask, you iceberg?!PS:A genius CEO with zero EQ VS. a lovable, scatter-brained clerk.He thinks courtship is a hostile takeover; she thinks love shouldn’t come with fine print.Sparks fly, clothes vanish, and the “free pie” she never ordered keeps biting back—hilariously, endlessly, deliciously.

“Legend had it that in the deepest part of the oldest galaxy, there was a door as red as blood and fire.

Legends and myths, darkness and light, countless stories passed through this old door.

The Door of Constellation that overlooked everything would warn the sky and earth, sending darkness back to where it belonged.”

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.”

After thousands of years of silence, the world of cultivation once again welcomed the golden age.