MTL - Endless Dantian - Chapter 1 Heaven and Earth, infinite bloodlines

Ronan was just another overworked office drone until a sudden death transported him to a vast, unfamiliar fantasy world—alone, invincible, and armed with absurdly powerful abilities from a game he once played. But reality isn't as simple as a game, and after days of wandering the unending Nim Forest without finding civilization, his optimism begins to fade.Just as isolation threatens to wear him down, he encounters Frieren, a quiet elf girl hiding in the bushes. Their meeting marks the first step on a path neither of them fully understands, in a world that seems empty, yet full of mystery.

The constant mission is getting redemption.

Shuttle though various worlds to become a variety of scum men, do a little whitewashing and become a good man in the eyes of everyone.

Redeem those who are miserable, and let them live a happy life.

- Description from Novelupdates

By the fourth year of Su Wan's career, every league rookie hears the same warning from their coach and veteran teammates: “You can try to impress him. You can even try to defend him. But no matter what—no matter if he hurls the most brutal insults your way—never, ever talk shit to him!”

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.”