MTL - Devouring Myriad Ghosts System - Chapter 17 Xuan Cang University's duel school rules

Xuanyuan was reborn into a strange new world where training to be a Xian was a cornerstone. There was however something ancient dwelling inside his body. He could now devour all of creation…

This is the journey of an ordinary boy and his transformation into the supreme being that reigns over all existence! Everywhere he went, he could not help but tie his fate with numerous women. It did not matter whether they were a goddess or a devil…

- Description from Novelupdates

[I traveled through time and entered the Taoist holy land Tianshi Mansion to practice. 】

Lei Jun: “This is a good start.”

[Late in getting started, late in practicing, mediocre in abilities, and slow in cultivation. 】

Lei Jun: “This is a bit bad.”

[Seeking good luck and avoiding bad luck, luck predicts the future, and choices determine life. 】

Lei Jun: “My golden finger is very powerful.”

[Top sign: …to get a fifth-grade opportunity, move secretly, and have no worries, good luck. 】

Lei Jun: “This is good, are there any others?”

[Lower sign: … Before you get any harvest, you will encounter a big disaster, you will be in a dangerous situation, and the casualties will be unpredictable. It is fierce. 】

Lei Jun: “Very good, I choose to sign.”

From now on, the benefits will not be lost, and the troubles will not come to you.

Life is in a simple mode, and you can watch others’ thrilling clouds rise and fall indifferently.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”