MTL - Asking About Longevity - Chapter 632 fire buddha

Q: How would you approach your target?

Tiger Tribe:
Jiang Yu (excited): “Cure him, give him medicine!”

Future Mecha:
Duan Jingzhe (at a loss): “… umm … feed him expired nutrients?”

Ancient Court:
Donghao Yang (banter): “Follow nature’s example and flirt shamelessly.”

Next unlucky protagonist: “…”

This is a collection of three short stories in which each protagonist crosses to another world or is reborn.

- Description from Novelupdates

A world where mana density was extremely abundant. Because of that, the world connected to a special place through an ancient gate—the World of Beasts. Through this connection with beasts, mankind became superhuman, wielding power capable of tearing apart sky and ground.However, too much of anything is never a good thing. Countless dungeons appeared across the rifts… and demons.Rocky Stephens, the first son of a Great Clan, the reincarnator, carrying memories from another world.… yet also a useless piece of trash. No one even remembered his name. His parents died. Betrayed by the branch clan, his beast was killed. He lived in a phase he had never dreamed of—a nightmare.When a second chance came, he returned to the World of Beasts… and awakened a system that could see through all Beasts’ training paths!With the system, his beast could level up like the wind… it could learn and upgrade its skills on its own, and even more.

Follow Tristan Hale on his journey to become the G.O.A.T. in football. After a life-changing car accident, Tristan is transported back to his youth, where he seizes a second chance at greatness.

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.”