MTL - The Military Female Soldier With Unwavering Stubbornness - v2 Chapter 5508 Loneliness

Suddenly being able to travel to various familiar worlds, to grow and develop in these various high-risk worlds, you need to follow the following guidelines:

1: If you want to get rich, don’t be afraid of death. If you are afraid of death, you can only eat other people’s leftovers.

2: Don’t always try to save the world, it will be bad luck to be a Virgin in other planes.

3: Don’t let go of good things, maybe you will lose a great opportunity because of this.

4: Don’t wantonly flood your feelings, you can only bring back sadness if you can’t take away the girl.

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- Description from novelbuddy

Follow Chen Ming as he accepts disciples, establishes a sect, and fights his way in a world that deems him a cannon fodder.
He goes against any common sense using his wits and novel knowhow to finish missions and arm himself against his cruel fate.

Cultivating immortality was too hard, with no Spiritual Root, Wang Ba accepted his lot in life.

He chose to join a Sect, becoming a servant in charge of raising chickens.

But the moment he touched a chicken, he realized that his path to immortality might be a little different!

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.”