MTL - Lady Cultivator - Chapter 34 Sendai society

Finn, your average college student with one noble goal: get home and watch some quality adult content in peace. Tragically, fate had other plans. A truck barreled toward him… then stopped halfway. The driver locked eyes with Finn—and hit him anyway.Now he’s dead.Wakes up in some divine waiting room. Gets mocked by a sarcastic, busty goddess. Gets offered the most useless powers imaginable.And worst of all? Still no porn.Frustrated beyond mortal comprehension, Finn throws an epic tantrum and drags the goddess down into the fantasy world with him. Now stuck in a realm full of grotesque monsters, cursed towns, and suspiciously moist terrain, Finn has no idea what he’s doing. No clue. No dignity. Suffering most of the time.With zero powers, infinite horniness, and one very angry divine companion, can Finn survive this absurd new world?Can he dodge death, outwit demonic squirrels, and maybe—just maybe—score a waifu?Or will he die in this world too…still painfully uncuddled?Let the absurd isekai disaster begin.[WARNING: THIS BOOK IS UNHINGED. DO NOT TAKE OFFENSE TO ANYTHING—IT’S ALL FOR COMEDIC PURPOSES. YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.]

Humanity was on the brink of destruction. Muyoung, an assassin from the Forest of Death, fell to his knees. There were corpses all around him. For years, he had worked for the Forest of Death and had finally been able to eradicate them. Now, he, himself, was about to die. He closed his eyes as he felt his heart stop beating.

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.”

The constant mission is getting redemption.

Shuttle though various worlds to become a variety of scum men, do a little whitewashing and become a good man in the eyes of everyone.

Redeem those who are miserable, and let them live a happy life.

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