MTL - Back Off, Let Me Come - Chapter 92 0: Social Criticism 【Ask for Monthly Pass】

In a world where money and power trumps all, Ahn Soo Ho, A.K.A. Magician, uses his superhuman abilities and his knowledge of the intelligence world to climb to the very top of the totem pole.

Li Huowang was incapable of making up his mind. Was he in a hospital or in a fantasy world, struggling to survive? Both sides claimed that they were real and that the other is nothing more than a hallucination.

Follow Li Huowang on his adventure as he tries to make sense of what is happening to him. Explore a world full of bizarre cultivators and eldritch horrors as everyone tries to survive in it.

Official blurb from the raws: The bizarre path to the heavens, the abnormal Deities and Immortals. Are they real? Or are they fake? Li Huowang is unable to differentiate between the two in his confusion. But that’s not all that is causing him to be unable to differentiate the two. There was also his own illness, a debilitating one.

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Sincere is transmigrated person, who gain a magical tiger eye in his left eye. with this eye he decided to change his ending and became the richest person

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.”