MTL - Supreme Uprising - Chapter 1481 Destroy the Thunder

I thought the world was vast, for me to wander, but now, it has only become a cage. For a life unhindered, I wield a single sword to pierce the ninth heavens. People find me displeasing, but there’s nothing they can do. That’s the kind of life I love!“Stop! I paved this path and I planted these trees. If you want to pass through…”“Brother, I come from the Dustfallen sect.”“What? The Dustfallen sect! Piss off!”This pitiful sect was so poor to the point where even bandits did not want to waste time on it. However, how could this sect, these nine measly people, be ordinary? What you see is only what they wish for you to see. What you can’t see is the truth!Mu Yu—a young human boy with the powers of elemental demons—accidentally joins the impoverished Dustfallen sect. The sect that even bandits did not want to waste time on was actually hid great talents, concealing a huge secret! You look down on my sect? Then that’s your ignorance!

WARNING[R18]“Right now,” Zamian whispered, his voice low and sultry, “I'll make sure you only call my name.”“Z-Zamian, what are you... what are you doing?” she gasped as he pulled her even closer, their bodies fitting together perfectly. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, a magnetic force drawing her in.“Shh,” he whispered against her ear, his breath warm and tantalizing. “Not yet. Save that voice for later.”****Mira Adams, a 19-year-old girl, ran into the forest to escape the death that the war had brought her. Little did she know, she would meet Zamian Zan, a mysterious stranger who took her in for reasons unknown. She escaped the next day.On her 21st birthday, she finally left the small village after pleading with her grandfather, who agreed for reasons she didn’t understand. Little did she know, she was destined to marry the stranger she had met two years earlier.Zamian, now 23, is a CEO and secretly the king of a hidden kingdom. He marries Mira due to a debt her late father owed him, but that wasn't his only reason—he told her he wanted a child from her, though his true motives remain a mystery to her.

At the far north of the Atherno Continent, in an unknown village, Kyrian was born as a mere mortal. Weak, insignificant, and destined for oblivion.But he was anything but ordinary. Upon opening his eyes for the first time, they revealed an absolute white eyes without pupils or irises… and with them, an inexplicable innate talent.The ability to see what no one else could.His eyes didn’t just see the particles of spiritual energy, they could steal them. And more than that.Whether intentions, laws, concepts… everything before his vision could be taken by his eyes.When he stole his first Sword Intention, his eyes awakened to the path of the blade. Upon taking the Intention of Ice, another ocular pair was born.With every new stolen intention, his eyes changed, and new ones appeared.Kyrian does not hide them from the world, no, heeding his mother’s last wishes. He uses his gift without fear, with only one goal.To become strong by any means.

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.”