Max-Level Metaphysician: A Debt Repayment Journey - Chapter 104 - : The Testimony of the Ancestor

[space + ancient times kingdom building + escaping from famine]

The big shot from the future, Bai Wutong, transmigrated to ancient times with her space pocket! Before she could feel happy, she found herself in a chaotic world! There was murder, robbery, schemes, sky-high prices, and many other things happening all around! The moment she arrived, she had killed two people. Then, she also kindly saved someone, but was deceived and stalked as the person insisted on following her. If that’s the case, then don’t blame her for using aggression in return!

After she finally managed to settle down, she was assigned to the frontier to develop the lands. The remote lands were out of anybody’s control, and there was nothing more that Bai Wutong could ask for. After a few years, Bai Wutong accidentally led the richest man of the previous dynasty, the prime minister, the commander of the secret guards, a great scholar of the dynasty, the holy maiden, as well as the divine doctor… and turned the barren land into a rich, noble town that everyone desired. When the emperor and his ministers came to admire the place, they were dumbfounded. That man who was pouring tea beside Bai Wutong… Wasn’t that the eldest son of the previous emperor, who had been dead for many years?!

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.”

In the City of Crime, one law stands above them all: Only the strongest can live.