MTL - Raising Wolves - v2 Chapter 97 end

The first prodigal of the Mu family has returned from rebirth, changing the very colors of heaven and earth, rewriting the entire world.Possessing divine treasures and magical weapons, she is all-powerful. With debts of vengeance to settle and debts of gratitude to repay! Whether to walk sideways or upright, the posture is a free choice!Reborn with a divine artifact, she possesses foresight, attracting good fortune and avoiding disaster, earning her the title of the greatest diviner!The greatest diviner, with the swirling changes of the world in her palm. However, upon encountering that person, she is unable to control her own heart.“You calculate the heavens and the earth, but have you ever calculated my feelings for you?” A smile blooms on that person's handsome face, as if a deity has descended.The Mu family's prodigal son, reborn and overturning chaos. Only when he stands at the pinnacle do people realize this isn't the prodigal son, but the breathtakingly beautiful young lady! Many young talents beat their chests in regret, having missed the best opportunity to win the lady's favor.Yet that person smirks arrogantly, indulging in a tender kiss on her forehead: “Thank you for being blind to her worth, otherwise, how could I have such a beauty in my embrace?”

The dimension storm has come, and there are a large number of different dimension fields in the earth.

Various immortal creatures such as immortals, Buddhas, demons, angels, and elves come to the earth. And those mysterious alien spheres have turned into copies of mobile games.

Others take the risk to take risks, but I am desperately playing games.

- Description from uukanshu

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.”

Tong, a sinner who was suffering endless torment in hell because of his mistake he had done in his previous life, was giving other chance to redeem himself by the devil.