MTL - As An Immortal, I Had To Pretend To Be A Vampire - Chapter 697 Yin prosperity and Yang decline

After 50 years of being in the position of Hwacheon Clan Leader, Kang-hyuk, widely renowned as 'The Dragon' retires.

A once supreme celestial being is reborn in the world of mortals!With the ability to decide life and death in his left hand through his remarkable medical skills,And overwhelming supernatural powers in his right hand to crush everything!Unrivaled in both medicine and martial arts, he roams freely with arrogance!

Ryan Carter, a die-hard fan of Russell Westbrook, tragically dies in a car accident after watching one of Westbrook’s most electrifying performances. But death isn’t the end—it’s the beginning. He awakens to find himself chosen by the mysterious Basketball Soul System, granting him a chance to be reborn in a parallel world with the abilities of any current NBA player. Without hesitation, he chooses his idol: 2016–2017 MVP Russell Westbrook, in his prime triple-double form.Now reborn in the basketball-obsessed world of the ABA, Ryan joins the Iron City Roarers. With unstoppable athleticism, relentless energy, and a hunger to win, he begins carving a new legend—one fast break at a time.

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.”