MTL - Right on Target - Chapter 5 to investigate

“Dafeng Night Watchman” tells the story of modern policeman Xu Qian'an who traveled to the Dafeng Dynasty. As soon as Xu Qian'an traveled through time, he was involved in the case of the loss of his second uncle's tax silver. He was later implicated and imprisoned and faced exile, but he successfully solved the case with his past life experience and wisdom, rescued himself and his second uncle's family, and joined the night watchman organization. After that, he encountered various murders, political struggles, and entanglements with mysterious forces. He killed his superiors in anger to save the female relatives of the prisoners, was involved in the Sangpo case, participated in the struggle between Buddhism and the Kingdom of Ten Thousand Monsters, and entered the sight of major forces. In the end, Xu Qian'an realized that his mission was to plead for the people and protect the weak. He began to run around for the people of the world, promoted the alliance between Dafeng and the Southern Xinjiang Gu Clan and the Kingdom of Ten Thousand Monsters, and joined hands with Princess Huaiqing to launch a coup to save the people of the world. The novel combines a variety of cultural elements such as Confucianism, Taoism, Buddhism, the demon clan, and sorcerers, showing Xu Qian'an's intelligence and detective skills.

Every night, he prayed. To every god on Earth.“Please, transport me to a fantasy world when I wake up tomorrow.”And then one day, his prayers were answered.Just not in the way he had hoped for.

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.”