MTL - I Was a Group Pet In 80 - Chapter 1496 team leader

After being set up and killed by her half-sister whom her ex-boyfriend had cheated with, Mu Siyin woke up one day to discover that not only was she alive, but she had traveled back in time to 2 years before her death.

As the Evil Deity of the Earth, the Ruler of the Wasteland, and the Mother of Desolation, Bai Lianyue now finds herself utterly bewildered, pinned down on a bed. Over a decade ago, in a moment of carelessness, she inadvertently ended the life of the Daughter of the Gods. Wracked with guilt, Bai Lianyue took it upon herself to raise the three children the divine daughter had left behind. Her original plan was simple: wait for the children to grow up and…

Aubree descended the mountain and became the real young miss of the Aubree family in River City.No one in the Aubree family liked this little Buddhist nun who came out from deep mountains. They gave the fake daughter their utmost care while warning the real young miss to discard all ideas of replacing the fake daughter's place.Aubree did not fight. She ate vegetarian food and read Buddhist scriptures every day—void of lust and desires.Her younger brother got caught in a huge lawsuit. Mrs. Aubree went through a lot of trouble to invite the First Lady to plead for mercy only to receive merciless ridicule. “I'll give you a second chance on Master Aubree's account.”Mrs. Aubree, “?”Mr. Aubree's company was in a crisis and was in desperate need of money. In his attempt to gain the richest man's favor, the rich man merely responded with a gaze full of despise. “You tend to take fish eyes for pearls. I think you've developed an acquired taste in your investments.”Mr. Aubree, “?”The fake daughter wanted to ruin the real daughter's reputation at a banquet. Eventually, everyone ended up realizing that the real young miss of the Aubree family was as beautiful as a fairy with a kindred heart.Fake daughter, “?”The crown prince of the wealthy, Qu Feitai, was also a top celebrity in showbiz. Being at the center of attention, he could summon a tempest whenever he wanted.When he participated in a variety show, a frail female guest appeared. She chopped wood with her left hand and pulled noodles with her right hand. Steaming, boiling, and cooking; everything was a piece of cake to her. As someone horrible at maintaining an orderly life, he was dumbfounded.During the live broadcast of the International Junior League finals, his cousin, who was known as a genius in Go, was extremely anxious. On the other hand, the familiar-looking beautiful girl opposite him was calm and composed, ending him in one move.His high-flyer best friend cried to him, “After your goddess transferred over, I can never surpass being in second place anymore.”Qu Feitai, “How many surprises do you have that I don't know about?”Until one day, he actually saw her discussing scriptures and Buddism with a group of old monks at an international Buddhist exchange. As she started to speak of Buddhist Dharma, Qu Feitai panicked…“You keep your six senses pure and saw through the vanity of the world, but I insist on dragging you here for a walk in the mortal realm. Worse comes to worst, you'll ascend to nirvana and I'll end up in hell.”

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.”