MTL - Don’t Pretend, I’m Actually Taking Special Forces - Chapter 934 Director Zhang's daughter

[Completed & female disguised as male & did the eight-fold mirror of the silent master hit your heart~]

In the eyes of others, Mr. Dumb is cold all over his body, his aura of a big boss frightens everyone, and one look can make you feel like a chill…

In Gu Shen’s eyes, it was a different feeling—-

Xiao Jiu’s waist is slim and her legs are long, she is so cruel and arrogant that she is so cute, even when she beats someone up, she is so cute and good-looking, people can’t help… want to take her home~

…

However, his daughter-in-law’s peach blossoms are blooming, so he can bear with the man, why is his meowing woman here to join in the fun? !

So one day, a certain god quietly blacklisted the coquettish sluts in the silent master’s phone…

- Description from novelbuddy

Kenichi Yamada was a 35-year-old salaryman. As a hardcore game enthusiast, he was saddened by the modern trend towards casual games.So, when a site claimed to be “for people who like to do things the hard way,” he just couldn’t resist. Thus, he was reincarnated into another world as Allen, playing on Hell Mode.This is fantasy light novel about Allen’s journey as a summoner.Reincarnated as a serf, he starts from nothing.His journey begins with absolutely no knowledge of the world around him, just like those games he played 10, 20 years ago.

Village woman Su Xiumei, “Fei, sister is ill, come help sister with a treatment!”Lin Fei gave a wicked smile, “Xiu Mei sister, don't lock your door tonight, I'll come give you a shot and you'll be fine!”Su Xiumei, “You little rascal, you're really naughty!”

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.”