MTL - Beauty and the Beast: Wolf Hubby XOXO - Chapter 1410 814 is not as good as people, dead and deserving

Warriors train their bodies. Scholars fill their minds. Every cultivator must have both and the talent to harness qi. But when the youngest princess of the murim lord was born, her golden core had to be sealed immediately because her talent for harvesting qi was too strong. Follow her as she regains her talent as the weakest murim princess.

Qin Chen was transmigrated to the Taiyi Holy Land where he became a servant in charge of sweeping the floor. However, on his 16th birthday, he was rewarded with a system where he was rewarded whenever he signed in at a new place.

When he signed in at the Empire Ruin, he was rewarded with the strongest Chaotic Holy Body and the Chaos Emperor Scripture.

When he signed in at the Demon Sealing Land, he was rewarded with the Probationary Royal Armies.

When he signed in at the Alchemy Palace, he was rewarded with the Divine-grade Alchemy.

When he signed in at the Herb Garden, he was rewarded with an Immortality Elixir.

When he signed in at the Empire Palace, he was rewarded with the Emperor-grade Divine Art, Revival.

…

Qin Chen thought he could just spend the rest of his life signing in at different places until he became invincible.

However, when the ruin of the Great Kingdom appeared inside the holy land, people from other holy lands, prestigious families, and even ancient empires gathered to defeat the All-Powerful Demon King who appeared with the ruin. The Demon King had killed countless people and had planned to destroy the Taiyi Holy Land.

Qin Chen was left with no choice but to step up. When he killed the Demon King with a single slap, he sighed, “Why do you guys have to force a mere servant to act?”

Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

- 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.”