MTL - I Made Scientific Magic - Chapter 330 Why don't you try my laser anti-aircraft cannon?

The world is like a chessboard.

“I do not want to be treated as a chess piece by the players!”

Defeat in this chess is tantamount to the destruction of my body and I’ll thoroughly disappear! Victory in this chess and I’ll have a very long life!

With the help of an ancient Weiqi piece, Gu Hai arrived at the Divine Province Mainland!

Heavenly Dao is eternal, however life is limited, making heaven and earth pieces of a chessboard, then in the end transformed into a loess, vanishing like faded smoke and scattered clouds. Nevertheless people still jump out of the chessboard, and these people are already prepared for their death while playing chess against the heavens, and perhaps win eternal life for themselves?

“I’ve come, and I want to live through 10,000 lives without any boundaries!”

Zero, a 35-year-old mercenary, after being betrayed by one of his teammates who told his enemy about him. He chooses suicide so that he can kill his enemy and his traitor teammate. After that, he was reincarnated into the world of magic, in the body of an 18-year-old teenager with the same name as him. However, his body does not have mana or the talent for magic. But with the help of the cultivation system, he has unrivaled power in the world and has a harem of beautiful wives.

Chu Nan was just an ordinary student, but because of an accident, he obtained the data collection, analysis and processing ability equivalent to the most advanced optical brain.

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.”