Worlds’ Apocalypse Online - Chapter 1792 - The Heavenly Emperor’s Divine Eyes

Mission: Transmigrate world by world into a scoundrel’s body; clean up the original’s life.

Wei Mingyan is a liar, through and through. But he doesn’t see himself as such. His motto? “If one deceives others for a lifetime, then all lies would become the truth.”

- Description from Novelupdates

A man is stabbed by a robber on the run after pushing his coworker and his coworker’s new fiance out of the way. As he lays dying, bleeding on the ground, he hears a voice. This voice is strange and interprets his dying regret of being a virgin by giving him the [Great Sage] unique skill! Is he being made fun of ?!

When Isaac opens his eyes, he finds neither eternal rest nor peaceful reincarnation... but a descent into hell. He wakes up in a world identical to his own, except for one terrifying detail: portals filled with monsters are popping up everywhere, and if no one stops them within three days, the apocalypse is upon us. Here, only enlightened hunters - graded from F to SS - have the power to confront these nightmarish creatures. The problem? Isaac is an F-rank, an orphan with no future, condemned to survive in the shadows of the strongest.But one night, everything changes. His spirit is torn from this world and plunged into another, a veritable hell where humanity is no more than a herd of slaves under the yoke of dragons. Tortured and broken, Isaac soon understands one thing: this other world isn't just a nightmare... it's a warning.As he fights for his life, a miracle occurs: an enigmatic system enables him to steal the power of the monsters he slays.[*Ding* Would you like to absorb the physical stats?]Weak yesterday, predator today, he has but one goal: to unravel the mysteries of both realities and crush those who would see him fail.With a katana in hand and a secret burning in his soul, Isaac refuses to be a victim. If he wants to survive, he has only one option: become the ultimate hunter... before history repeats itself.

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.”