MTL - Farmer of Shu Han - Chapter 1162 The Third Rise of the Xianbei

In the grand weekend year, demons cause chaos, and people cannot live peacefully.Han Zheng, carrying the game setting he designed [Taotie Furnace], travels to this world. By sacrificing to the furnace, one can break through martial arts techniques.From [White Ape Extended Arm Fist] to [Ape Demon Nine Transformations].From [Vajra Fist] to [Great Vajra Ming King Seal] and then to [Great Mighty Dragon Bodhisattva View].From [True Martial Refinement] to [True Martial Holy Body] and then to [True Martial Indestructible Body]There are no gods in the world, hence demons run rampant, and evil spirits are everywhere.As Han Zheng kills his way through the chaotic world of demons, looking back, he has become the only true god in this world!

Qin Guan was reborn and sent back to his final semester in High School 18 years ago. Getting a second chance at life, he works hard to turn things around and eventually become a Prince Charming. What will his life be like the second time around? What will he have to go through? How will he succeed in turning from a loser into a Prince Charming?

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.”

Dreaming back to the Tang Dynasty, being an ordinary person, greedy for money, lustful, debauched and free.

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