MTL - Save Uchiha, Start From Flipping the Table - Chapter 61

It has been a year since Li Fuchen lost his “talent”. Now he lives the life of a wastrel, being bullied and beaten by those who were once inferior to him. However, he has still not lost everything as he is engaged to a strong and pretty girl of a powerful family… but that came to an end as the engagement was abruptly anulled. With shame brought to the family and his life engulfed by darkness, a ray of hope pierced through the sky.

Kazura was selected as the winner on a lottery that he bought on a whim and received ¥4,000,000,000 (4 billion yen).

He once reached the peak—only to discover that the heavens reward no one.Betrayed by fate itself, his soul regressed through time and claimed a new body: Gu Qinghe, the disgraced Young Master of the Gu Clan, born with status yet ridiculed as a waste.This vessel was different.With every memory from his past life intact and the Infinite Comprehension System, all techniques revealed their secrets.Bottlenecks shattered. Incomplete arts perfected. Even forbidden paths bent before his understanding.This time, he would not walk the road of cultivation blindly.Every step was calculated. Every enemy marked.Using knowledge stolen from the future and comprehension that defied heaven, he would rise from ridicule to supremacy—suppressing prodigies, trampling sects, and overturning the natural order.The heavens had denied him once.Now, he would make them pay.

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.”