MTL - Dark Civilization - v14 Chapter 244 Sword of Punishment!

Mimizuku, a small girl with chains on her wrists and ankles and the numbers “332” branded onto her forehead, wanders into the Forest of Night seeking to be eaten by a monster. However, when the ruler of the monsters, the mysterious and beautiful “King of Night,” refuses to eat her, she tries to formulate a way to convince him otherwise.

In a world where strength reigns supreme, Leon Xian was nothing but a cripple, mocked and humiliated by his peers. Betrayed, abandoned, and cast aside—his fate seemed sealed.Until he awakened the Limitless Copy System.Steal any talent. Copy any technique. Master any power.With a single touch, he rises from the depths of mediocrity to stand above geniuses. The arrogant elites who once looked down on him? He crushes them with their own techniques. The noble beauty who broke off their engagement? Now, she regrets it.From a sect’s laughingstock to an unstoppable force, Leon’s journey has just begun. Enemies will kneel, beauties will fall, and legends will be rewritten.Watch as the trash becomes invincible!

I am Ye Qing. Lucky I found a [Monster Factory] application.

This bunch of super strong monsters are individually comparable to over 100 human beings, and they bring all kinds of skills!

Efficiency? With the skill processing speed +300, you still want to compete?

Precision? *cough, cough* Bring me that legendary dial caliper, let’s show them what absolute precision really mean.

Ye Qing: When, us, men want to be successful, we pull out our wallets.

Monsters: Don’t play those malice games with us. The creation of ultimate machinery is our love and life. These impenetrable bodies are our tools of the trade.

A 20 meter tall, overly buffed, savage looking monsters hold on to a ultimate cutting machine and yelled at the sky: “I am not targeting anyone specifically! Rather I am telling you all that, everything, in front of me and my tools are, nothing, but TRASH!”

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”