Escaping the Mystery Hotel - Chapter 262: Hotel Turned Hell, Entering Room ???

On a certain day, Ji Xiao Li led his newly-acquired disciple into a dungeon, feeding him all sorts of priceless red and blue potions.

Teammate: f*ck, tyrant, you have an ore mine at home?

Ji Xiao Li: how did you know my family owns an ore mine?

【Teacher Orders a Salute：disciple, enter the sect, accept my guidance. Tell teacher, what is the sect’s foremost teaching?】

【Milk Tea Small Crisp：Master, isn’t our sect just you and I, what is the foremost teaching?】

【Teacher Orders a Salute：evil, evil disciple! I said to say it so say it!】

【Milk Tea Small Crisp：……】

【Milk Tea Small Crisp：Beat to death YueJian Chunhe that son of a bitch!】

YueJian ChunHe = Milk Tea Small Crisp = Ruan Fenghe

Teacher Orders a Salute = Ji Xiao Li

- Description from Novelupdates

Derek Hart finds himself in an advanced world terrorized by extraterrestrial beasts called nightmares. Although he accepts a normal life the incident leading to his family’s death hurled his anti-climatic life into one that changes the future of Xon.

Teleporters, Superhumans, bionic humans, martial artists, no one is able to bring down a man with close ties to the soul force.

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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.”