The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System - Chapter 71 - The System’s Penalty

I, the mighty Telepath Starlord, got banished into the mortal world. The days in the mortal world are much better than those in heaven! Everything is here — money, authority and most importantly stunning beauties! I am from a rich family. Yes, I am indeed wealthy now. The kind of wealth where you would not want to displease me. Domineering CEOs, military big shots, business geniuses, you name it — I know them all! I know everything you are thinking about. You can’t defeat me anyway, how are you going to go against me? A century in the mortal world is only equivalent to a hundred days in heaven.

The once greatest Saint underneath the heavens has been reborn after one hundred years. He cultivates with mighty skills, and he fights to once again reach the top of the world!

With the unexpectedly obtained unknown civilization technology, bionic robots, artificial intelligence, quantum mechanical transmission, supercomputers, plasma thrusters, nuclear fusion, these black technologies are constantly being manufactured in Wang Xiao’s hands.

Knowledge is power. With the help of unknown civilization technology, Wang Xiao, who has acquired this knowledge and black technology, has tickets to a better future and a sea of stars.

- Description from Qidian

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.”