MTL - My Turret Has a Caliber of Three Thousand Meters - Chapter 91 : "It's not easy, Brother Jiang, we have taken the first step...

An Apocalypse descends—as a lethal super-virus wipes out most of the human population. It took less than a day for the world to change forever—bringing mankind to its knees.It’s a time of misery and death for most, however, there are some who are lucky. Zane Graves, who came across a “Blood Crystal” is given an ability: [Dead Man Walking]—which grants him a special power, and so setting him off on his path to the top!

“Is Fate the excuse of the forsaken, is Free Will the delusion of the chosen?”Such was a question that Xavier, the Demon King, never had the chance to ask himself. As he lay defeated, awaiting his death, he wondered about the wretched life he lived.'The hero who killed me, the one who held the same ambitions as me. We both wanted good for the people, for the world. We are both two sides of the same coin, yet, fate decided that he will be the one the light will shine on.Perhaps it was me too, perhaps it was my karma for flowing the rivers of blood with my sword. But still... It was fate that squashed the humanity in me first!Damn fate, if I had one more chance, I would've lived for myself more, I wouldn't have taken this arbitrary role of being a necessary evil... This world, this game of destiny... It can burn to ashes for all I care.'As he sunk into the cold embrace of death, a certain [REDACTED] heard his dying wish with amusement and cast their die, reversing the wheel of time one last time and going all in on him on a risky gamble with the stakes of their world.

Li Daoxuan received a strange scenic box.Inside the box, there was an ancient village, and a group of plastic figures, holding swords and knives, hacking and slashing through the village.He bent his finger and flicked it towards a most conspicuous figure…Late in the Ming Dynasty, in Shaanxi, there was a great drought in the land.A gang of mountain bandits was looting, burning, killing, and plundering in the village.A poor maiden was about to be killed under a mountain bandit’s blade.Suddenly, a giant hand stretched out from the clouds, bent a finger, flicked it, and the mountain bandit was flung several dozen yards away.

She remembers him because of the mole at the corner of his eyebrow;He remembers her simply because she is her.Every passing encounter becomes a story in the memory,And you are the ending of my story.