MTL - Blast! The Group Favorite Fake Daughter Was Spoiled By the Film King and Cried - Chapter 1751 Meeting with Yan Dong; talking about Ye You Bai Ting

Transmigrated to become a disciple of the demon sect, relying on the technique modifier to become a giant of the demon path.

[Detected the technique “Blood Nerve”, relying on devouring blood to cultivate]

[Side effect: easily affected by the spirit contained in the blood, becoming bloodthirsty, murderous, insane, and even brain dead]

[Please wait, system modification is in progress…]

[Ding! Modification completed and side effects canceled]

Xia Mi found himself transported into a classic JRPG game, becoming a villager in a beginner's village.His biggest wish was to save money and marry a woman from a different race as his wife, live a peaceful and worry-free life, and eventually pass away peacefully.One day, the heroes defeated the Demon King.[Name: Xia Mi][Profession: Villager]New addition: [Profession: Successor to the Demon King]“Quickly take action, Demon King! Kill all the heroes! Restore the glory of the demon race!”Wait, did something go wrong here?In the beginner's village, where Xia Mi spent his days farming and serving as a passer-by, he suddenly had an identity panel.But he was just a villager in the beginner's village!“Where is the Demon King? Where is the Demon King?”News of the Demon King's emergence spread across the continent, and every hero who came here to defeat the Demon King could see a constant stream of monsters in the beginner's village, but never caught sight of the Demon King.A villager from the beginner's village: Demon King? I'm just a villager. I have no idea what it is.

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.”