MTL - The Last Apostle - v7 Chapter 37 Raise

Marcella Valemont was a villainess wrapped in silk and thorns.The alluring, selfish daughter of the High Priest, she was forced into a cold marriage with the Black-bellied Duke Berith Montclair. She longed for power and would stop at nothing to claim the crown, even if it meant seducing the incorruptible Crown Prince Lucian and clawing her way to the throne into becoming the Queen.Until it all burned.Her ruthless schemes led to betrayal, rebellion, and ruin-- an empire on its knees, a virtuous king destroyed, and a rebellion led by the man she discarded. Desperate and full of regret, she barters her life with the Duke to save Lucian.In an interesting turn of events, Marcella gets to go back in time to fix her wrongs, save the man who was ruined because of her and hopefully stop the bloodthirsty rebel Duke Berith.She finds herself reborn as her 18-year-old self with a chance for a do-over and vows to do better this time.But the past does not forget. Nor does the devil in her husband’s skin.Secrets long buried begin to surface, and Marcella discovers that her former husband is far more than he seems—a man cloaked in darkness, harboring a purpose that threatens everything she holds dear.They say second chances come with thorns and to fix the past, she must trust the devil who destroyed it.

Blind man Chen Dashan by chance acquired the miraculous skill, Sun and Moon Technique, and not only cured his own eyes, but also...

...[Inside an underground basement]“You are going to die for nothing, hahahaha,” the old man's voice thundered through the room, sending chills down my spine.Step.With a swift and ruthless motion, he lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air and slashing my throat, crimson droplets staining the darkness.“We'll see,” I whispered defiantly, my final words escaping as a mere breath against the impending darkness.Slowly, inexorably, my consciousness slipped away, and I descended into a deep, unfathomable slumber.“Huh!?” My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself seated in a bustling tavern, the air thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses.In front of me stood a captivating lady, her beauty juxtaposed with an angry furrow upon her brow, threatening to shatter the harmony of the jovial scene.“Don't follow me around!” Her words pierced the air like shards of ice, the intensity of her emotions palpable as she cast a resentful glare in my direction, before swiftly departing from the tavern....Am I trapped within the confines of a game? The fragments of my shattered common sense scattered before me, leaving me to question the very fabric of my reality.