MTL - Lord of the Secret Art! - Chapter 340 great mist lord

“Who said I want to be the hero?”——Silas, a streamer, died in a fire. When he opened his eyes, a man stood before him, pleading for his help — and from that moment onwards, things changed.[Pick a Choice],[Choice A — Be the Good Guy]

At the beginning, travel to the Holy Land Mary Joa and become a slave of the dragon people.

With the help of the Tianlong people’s “enthusiasm”, Chenos obtained the Devil Fruit that can rebound everything, won the favor of the Empress, learned to be domineering, and also gained the Golden Emperor as his younger brother.

Finally, in order to thank the Tianlong people for their “enthusiasm”, Chenos, who became the five emperors, decided to let them leave the Holy Land Mary Joa and experience the fun of the world!

[No system, no golden fingers, take the road of developing fruits, practicing physical skills and domineering, hoping to bring you a different world of pirates. ]

- Description from novelbuddy

It is the day of her long-awaited debutante at the age of 15.

Marshallie Gracis, a Viscount’s daughter, witnesses her own fiancé kneeling before another woman and begging for her love.

She was saddened by the unexpected scene of the affair, but her fiancé offered no excuse or apology. She thought the engagement would be broken off, but it wasn’t even that, and the next thing she knew, 10 years had passed without her being married…

25-year-old Marsha had given up on the idea of getting married to become the queen’s maid of honor.

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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.”