MTL - Carefree Path of Dreams - v2 Chapter 1176 Break through

Feng Xin was really tired. Twenty years ago, her girlfriend suffered a brain damage in an accident, and she woke up feeling abnormal.

She just watched the dazzling goddess in the past, and turned into a fool who likes to talk to herself, yell, and has no ability to take care of herself.

Now that Feng Xin is over forty years old, she has long become numb in the face of her often crazy wife. She should have lost Shang Congshu twenty years ago, so that she will not endure until middle age and suffer most of her life.

Waking up one night, Feng Xin returned to twenty years ago, and actually returned to the second day when Shang Congshu was mentally ill! ! !

Shang’s mother was distraught: “I know that ordinary people can’t bear this kind of accident. As long as you say a word not to be comfortable, my father and I will take them away immediately.”

The picture is exactly the same as it was 20 years ago. Feng Xin was held by Shang Congshu. The fool didn’t know what to say. …

It turned out that if she chose again, she still wanted to continue to love Shang Congshu.

Even if taking care of you who has become a lunatic makes me emaciated, sleepless every night, and tortures me so much, I still can’t stand my life without you.
Feng Xin: “Auntie, I want her.”

Content tags: urban love, special liking, heaven’s favored son, rebirth
Search keywords: Protagonist: Feng Xin (xīn), Shang Congshu ┃ Supporting role: ┃ Others:

- Description from novelbuddy

Exile Ren?

The start is hell mode?

Fortunately, there are crossing benefits, and it is still a stitched monster sandbox game system!

Liver Emperor Ren? Hamster Ryan? Isn’t this basic operation?

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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.”

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