MTL - DOTA’s Madness - Chapter 771 Always less than

Hua Jin Lan, a 21st century assassin, was tied up by her sister and thrown into the sea. When her eyes reopened, she had became the daughter, with the same name, of a martial arts family in the Yue dynasty. Some say that the daughter was worthless and just a pretty face; some say she was shameless and proposed to 5 different men a total of 10 times; some say she was a ruthless person and when unable to obtain love she turns to love potions. She was exposed thus while bearing both shame and resentment she jumps into the river and commits suicide……Wait what?

I, an assassin, am being trolled? Fine! If you say I am worthless, let me show you what is a genius. If you say I am shameless, let me show you what is presumptuous. If you say I am brazen, let me show you what is even more brazen.

- Description from Novelupdates

The sky and the earth are infinitesimal as a grain, and a life of peace is like the sea.

Lu Heng, who crossed over to the other world, found himself transformed into a huge white wolf, a mountain God of a remote mountain with a group of villagers under his rule.

In this strange and wild world, demons and giant beasts run rampant, and human order is almost non-existent.

These, however, are not what Lu Heng needs to think about. What he needs to think about now is how to tell this group of villagers that he does not need little girls.

Besides, he actually doesn’t want to be a God anymore…

The king of assassins was reborn, mastering both alchemy and poison. Sitting inside the space, there was a ghost that loved crying.

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.”