MTL - An Unyielding Wind - v14 Chapter 40 One after another

In his first life, he was Wu Taro, in the second, Uchiha Taro, and now, Mu Taro, also known as Master Roshi. Having 300 Years of time to use before the beginning of the main story, Mu Taro star his Journey to become the strongest.___________________________________PS1: The author of the book only adapts Dragon ball, Dragon ball z and Battle of Gods.PS2: The author does not watch Dragon Ball SuperPS3: There is no GT.PS4: The real name of Master Roshi was never revealed, so the Author made a original one.

It was the year 2021 AD.

The game jointly developed by the entire world, “Heavenly Enlightenment”, was released. In this game, in-game coins could be exchanged for real money, which instantly attracted countless players from all across the world.

Various nations around the globe also competed fiercely for the resources in the game.

Lu Yuan was a player of “Heavenly Enlightenment.

At the start, he received the SSS rank talent — Infinite skills upgrade! Fireball LV999: Fireball descends from the sky and rains destruction upon the world! Heal LV999: the Angel descends to revive ten thousand people!

……

With his infinite upgrading talent, while others were still desperately trying to farm mob monsters, Lu Yuan had already killed the boss effortlessly. While others were still toiling to raise the favourability meter of NPCs, Lu Yuan was already sleeping on the same bed as the NPC queen.

The other players all started to protest!

“Report him, he’s cheating!”

“Lu Yuan had severely affected the balance of this game, we strongly demand to ban Lu Yuan!”

…….

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.”

Why, seems like I’ve become a haunted portrait.