MTL - Open a Clinic to Cultivate Myself - Chapter 1550 Rotating stone mill

A man transmigrates as Dominic, an extra in a game. Being chosen my the Lords to defeat the MC of the game, he has to level up to the greatest ever limit. He has to defeat the MC but he needs some women by his side to help him. He needs the greatest harem. Exploiting them he gains not just a harem but also copies their special abilities.Just like a game, he gets to take down every member so as to face the MC.Please read on. I may not be frequent in updating but if I notice a good start I could release frequent chapters. Also support me with power stones.

“The war is finally over?! Then, what am I going to do with my life?” Caedrel, a man who had spent his entire life fighting, had no idea what to do next. Fortunately, he was offered to become a teacher in the greatest academy in the world. However, he wouldn’t be a normal teacher but a spy for his country’s Emperor! Doesn’t sound too bad, right? Well, it would have been great, that is…until he learned that his class was for the most talented(weird) students in the entire world.

Obtaining ancient inheritance, the small farmer embarks on a path of prosperity. Let me show you the power of a small farmer!

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.”