MTL - Best Actor - v3 Chapter 213 The outpost is still

This book, alternatively titled “The Heavenly Court of Great Qin,” unfolds the tale of Qin Jun, who finds himself transported to a realm where he assumes the role of a demoted prince. Despite the challenging circumstances, destiny has more in store for Qin Jun than despair—enter the Mythology System!Under this system's influence, any character from mythology can be summoned into existence - The awe-inspiring might of the Supreme Heaven Great Sage, Sun Wukong, capable of shaking mountains and rivers with a single strike of his staff; The Thousand-Mile Eye and Favorable Wind Ears, acquiring profound perception of everything in the world.The Tathāgata Buddha, holding the Buddha Land within the palm of his hand, becomes an indomitable force from which no one can escape. Amidst this divine realm of Gods and Demons, Qin Jun solemnly pledges to rise as the preeminent Divine Emperor, determined to carve his path to unparalleled strength.

“With my knowledge, give me a fulcrum on which to place it and I shall move the world!”

Wake up and an unknown door has appeared in your home… Behind each door is a completely unfamiliar world.In the nightmare world, Jiang Cheng relays the news from the Hunk to the Fatty, adding his own spin to the story.The Fatty almost cried in fear hearing it.“My whole family will be strung upside down for blood-letting if I die here?”“That’s what I heard.”“Then, how come you don’t look scared at all?” The fatty widened his eyes.Jiang Cheng turned around and replied in a very formal tone, “Because I’m an orphan.”

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.”