MTL - Stealing The Heavens - Chapter 3 Daojun

Rocco Di Malvento lived a short, but loving life in his previous world, surrounded by a caring family. Despite suffering from a terminal illness, he found solace in books, especially his favorite BL novel >. But when he dies, he wakes up in an unexpected new life—as the weak, neglected second son of a powerful mafia family.Now reborn in the world of the novel, Rocco finds himself in a terrifying situation: he's the useless younger brother of Sylas, the main protagonist, and likely doomed to die young unless he changes the course of his life. So, what's his plan? Simple—befriend the protagonist, avoid being a spoiled brat, and secretly recruit Sylas's future allies to protect him.First target? Georgio the Hyena, an infamous killer. Rocco's strategy: charm the terrifying man and make him his ally instead of Sylas’s.It's a ridiculous plan, but hey, at least Rocco is trying. Can he survive the mafia world and avoid his tragic fate? He hopes so. After all, he’s just a kid trying to make the most of his second chance!

Introduction: Gu Junqing has traveled to many urban novels in his previous life, and became one of the cannon fodder villains. As a villain, he should take it as his responsibility to steal the protagonist’s girlfriend. Why should the protagonist be able to sail smoothly and be invincible in the world? Let…

- Description from novelbuddy

Ally level 8,6,6,6! Enemy level 6,5,4…0?

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.”