MTL - Hide And Cultivate In The East Palace, Only To Find The Prince Is A Girl - Chapter 166 Tear Candle Dragon (Part 2)

Fortune Telling, a mysterious technique, can also be said dangerous because it can change the catastrophe and make it auspicious…

Teacher: Don’t give me these useless papers to me, have you finished answering your test paper?
Lin Qingyin took out a tortoiseshell: Teacher, can I use divination to get the answer?

Lin Qingyin, the master of fortune-telling, didn’t succeed in the Thunder Tribulation when she tried to ascend. When she woke up again, she became a high school student. Lin Qingyin, who was not afraid of Thunder Tribulation, looked at the thick test paper in front of her and shivered. Only a thousand years had passed, how could the world become so scary!

Lucia grew up not knowing she was a princess.

After getting hit by the truck, Luke was reincarnated as a target character in a reverse harem game.He was supposed to throw away his fiancée—the Villainess—and mindlessly follow the Protagonist.A side character he was destined to be, however, even if Luke accepts his fate as a side character, he cannot let the Villainess meet with the same dead end.-----------Additional tags: No yaoi, no yuri, no NTR. Obsessive character, possessive character, solo-romance, no harem, early romance, possible lemons.

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.”