MTL - The Fugitive White Moonlight of a Powerful Minister - Chapter 166 Are the candles ready?

An editor at the prime of her life—and with maybe just a little too much free time—finds herself waking up in one of her favorite RPGs with no clue as to what's going on or how to get back home.This might be the part where others rejoice over getting whisked away to a world of wizards and magic, but she certainly doesn't think it's anything to celebrate about.After all, she woke up in the body of a small-time villain with some severe personality issues.

'I should have stayed home and played video games' this was Ray's last thought before darkness engulfed him after he was hit by a car.

But surprisingly instead of finding himself before the gate of hell after dying, Ray found out he was transmigrated into another world.

The world Ray was transmitted to was called Arora world, a world where you can use different kinds of skills, magic and can even get powerful classes.

Ray found himself in a body of a young boy called Evan, who was studying in a hunter academy after awakening his ability at the age of fourteen.

At first, Ray was happy that he was transmigrated into the body of someone who has awakened his ability and can use the magic that he always wanted to use.

But when Ray goes through the memories of Evan, he finally found out everything is not as simple as he was expecting.

Evan has a unique physique that doesn't allow him to increase his power like other people, because of his useless unique physique Evan was the weakest hunter in the entire academy.

And that was not all the more Ray looks at the memories of Evan the more he realizes just how troublesome his situation is.

“I know I enter in this body without buying a ticket but isn't this too much?” Ray said in a depressed voice after going through the memories of Evan.

Will Ray be able to survive in this new world?

Is the physique of his new body really useless?

Join Ray In his adventure to find out.

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On the way to a company workshop, we fell into a world of immortal cultivators while still in the car.

Those with spiritual roots and unique abilities were all called to join cultivation sects, living prosperously.

But I, having neither spiritual roots nor special abilities, lived as an ordinary mortal for 50 years, complying with fate until my death.

That’s what I thought.

Until I regressed.

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.”