MTL - Rebirth: Degenerate Slave Abuses Tyrant - Chapter 421 does not hurt Luo Qi

Yasuo Zoldyck, an assassin who was once a biologist seeking to extinguish the limits set upon him- To no avail.

Now, in a world where the impossible is possible, how far will his researching mind push him? Can he break those limits?

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Her – a glutton without troubles or worries who crossed over and became a young fat chick with a deep vengefulness.

Him – a young master of the number one power; a two-faced man with elegance and charming, good looks; he is the chosen one of the former saint god and a man who will only bend his back for her alone.

This domineering crossover’s slogan is, ‘Don’t touch if it is this sister’s, put it there if it isn’t this sister’s!’

…watch how the Domineering Glutton and the Two-Faced Venerate Emperor create sparks as they meet and collide, stirring the whole Spirit Treasure Continent into turmoil, how they fall for each other and how they kill each other, how life and death severs love.

- Description from Novelupdates

At the moment when he was about to be buried alive by the villagers, he blew himself up… no, he saved himself successfully.

He just wants to live and die in this era, but… that woman is too crazy.

…

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- 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.”