MTL - Late Night Tales Of The Capital - Chapter 139 The girl in the eyes of the young

After finding himself a poor man in a world of Cultivation, Magic, and infinite possibilities, William has to do everything in his power to survive. But with the knowledge of modern books, movies, and a System granting the ability to upgrade his talents, William is prepared for anything! Or...is he?Follow William, his Potential System, and his chaotic character as he improves his strength from Peasant to Primordial Being!Don't worry, he won't cause too much chaos...right?

The dimension storm has come, and there are a large number of different dimension fields in the earth.

Various immortal creatures such as immortals, Buddhas, demons, angels, and elves come to the earth. And those mysterious alien spheres have turned into copies of mobile games.

Others take the risk to take risks, but I am desperately playing games.

- Description from uukanshu

The idiot Long Gen pretends to be a pig and eats a tiger, takes advantage of the girls in the village, travels across the countryside and forests, monopolizes the beauty and coquettishness, and achieves the legend of “Dragon Gen”. There is a widow in front of the door leaning on the door to watch, and a sister-in-law next door looking through the screen window… This book is determined to be a stallion, with the goal of pushing down and being pushed.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”