MTL - Master of Fist - v2 Chapter 1167 meet survivor

Zixu woke up to find himself in the world of *Naruto*.Too weak to survive? No problem—he has the Kaido template.Unfamiliar with the *Naruto* world and clueless about ninjutsu? No worries—devouring Sarutobi Hiruzen's soul will take care of that.Caught in the constant battles between ninja villages and struggling to protect himself? Simple—just start his own teaching faction.Lacking manpower? Short on talent? Easy—swing the hoe well, and no corner is too deep to dig.

Legend has it that there is a place called “No. 8 Pawnshop” in the fourth dimension of space, where you can pawn gold and silver jewelry, land deeds, property deeds, even your limbs, internal organs, or luck, intelligence, reason, happiness, happiness, Love, even expensive souls, to fulfill all your desires.

Pawnshop No. 8, there is only code entry, no redemption.

That’s the road of no return.

Those who go there, when they come back, will become without hands, feet, liver, stomach, and heart, and even lose the mutation of their souls.
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One day, they will become less human because of the pawn.

In the pawnshop No. 8, smiles are fake, sincerity is fake, pity is fake, everything is only a means of deception and seduction.

This article has no CP

Because of the problems of adding V to the list, the first story needs to be greatly changed. Therefore, the author apologizes for the trouble caused to readers, and has already started a separate chapter.

Content tags: Travel through time and space, infinite flow, martial arts, Hong Kong and Taiwan dramas

Search keywords: Protagonist: Ye Li ┃ Supporting roles: Ye Zhilan, Hei Ying, Lao Bai, Ye Chenyang, Shen Yue ┃ Others:

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”