MTL - Medical Princess - Chapter 163 Posts from Xingguo Government

Jiang Fan had transmigrated to a world where everyone could awaken a planet.

The larger the planet, the higher the origin energy, and the stronger the civilization.

There were people who made theirs with qi to create a martial arts civilization. Everyone on the planet was a martial arts practitioner.

There were people who made theirs with magic power to create a magical civilization. Everyone on the planet was a mage.

There were people who made their spiritual energy to create an immortal civilization. Everyone on the planet was an immortal cultivator.

Everyone was trying their best to construct all sorts of extraordinary planets.

Jiang Fan, on the other hand, used his memories from his previous life to create a technological civilization!

“Your Star Destroyer directly pierced through the opponent’s planet, and the opponent lowered their head.”

“Your two-way foil turned the opponent’s immortal cultivation planet into a piece of paper. You scared them silly!”

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

I was thrown into a novel that hasn’t even been completed yet (and turned into a girl…), guided by the omnipresent voice of the unreasonable, amateur Author as he writes the web novel. I have no idea what’s going on, so I have to stick close to the main character to make sure I don’t hit a bad end…Why are you treating only me like this!I’m not suspicious, believe me.I’m a harmless person.“A villain? Not at all.”

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.”