MTL - The Blind Date is the Daughter of the Gods - Chapter 12 Do you want to be a **** man?

Seven years ago, she freely and easily abandoned ￥100 and ran away, carrying her unborn son with her. Seven years later, she returned with the lady killer’s genius son, never expecting that her darling son would sell her out to MBS International. Unexpectedly, her immediate superior was the Mr. ￥100 from seven years ago!

The nemesis that Ji Ran had been unable to stand for many years has finally gone bankrupt.

All his scoundrel friends asked him, what now?

Ji Ran laughed coldly, you still have to f*cking ask him?

Of course, it’s to use this opportunity to torment, humiliate, and trample upon him.

Therefore, Ji Ran waved an arm and threw a card towards his nemesis in mad glee, saying that he’d ‘sponsor’ him.

However, the next day, he sat up in bed with a dumbfounded expression. Feeling a sore ache in his body, he recalled the bitterness of last night, as well as their ‘fight’ and the tears he’d wept…

f*ck your mom.

Motherf*cker.

Qin Man, you dog, I’ll kill you!

- Description from Novelupdates

The later generations immensely revered Great Wei’s Jianan Emperor. During the period of his reign, Great Wei entered its golden era.

Interestingly, all the records, that glorified his accomplishments unanimously agreed, that Jianan Emperor had only one flaw in his life: He favored only imperial noble consort!

Zhou Tong was very annoyed. She time-traveled out of blue, didn’t even have time to take a breath, and yet, already had to deal with troubles.

What? The original owner of her body was a walk-on cannon fodder*? She couldn’t even be regarded as a second female lead?

Zhou Tong is angry! Change, it must change! This plot needs a beautiful turn around in order to be worthy of sis’s coquettish personality!

This is a story of the unfortunate time-traveling lass, who possessed the body of reborn aboriginal maiden and became the Great Wei’s beloved imperial consort.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”