MTL - Ghost Emperor Wild Wife: Dandy Eldest Miss - Chapter 2215 Huaxia Fanwai (55)

Chen Sansi traveled back to the chaotic end of a dynasty, thankfully with the hardworking system by his side. He originally wanted to hunt to earn money and someday go to the Martial Arts Hall to learn some basic fist and foot techniques, aspiring just to be an ordinary rich man. Yet, fate had other plans. With officials imposing heavy taxes and the Martial Arts Hall bullying the citizens, he had no choice but to enlist in the army to survive, becoming an archer. From “archery (entry-level),” he worked tirelessly up to “operating a ten thousand weight bow, where arrows cannot be dodged,” taking the heads of enemy generals from a hundred miles away! From “basic soldier’s spear technique,” he worked tirelessly up to “National Guardian Dragon Spear, growing more valiant with each battle,” standing firm with a spear on horseback, alone turning back the Enemy Army of a million! Years later, Chen Sansi, having campaigned in the south and battled in the north, was truly invincible under the heavens, commanding two hundred thousand of the Iron Cavalry. Watching his subordinates forcibly ascend him to the throne and become emperor, he felt quite helpless: ’You... you have really caused me trouble!’

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.”

I intervene in all events of the game. And take it away.

Lin Qian once thought the man she wanted would be handsome and formidable, able to “create clouds with one turn of the hand and rain with another turn” in the business world, causing her to look up to him in admiration. There would be nothing he could not accomplish.