MTL - Lord Highlander - Chapter 1587 1573. The horn of the general attack

She, a genius abandoned by her clan. He, a proud, pampered, two-faced imperial crown prince, a developing supreme ruler of the world. She, tricking him, disguised as a pig to eat a tiger, suppressing him, provoking him. Every time, after playing with him and stirring him up, she’d escape.

The ashes-level player traveled through World of Warcraft and became Jaina’s brother. We are also princes now.

For the sake of the survival of the family, should I discount my sister’s legs first, lest she become a kinslayer in the future?

and many more? How come you have to die first?

Let me see the walkthrough.

Well, first touch the forehead to open the character panel,

Then he picked up his weapon and opened the skull of the orc,

If you drop the equipment, you will earn it. If you don’t have it, you don’t have to be sad. Wash your hands, and then go to the next one…

Okay, no kidding, let’s get serious and start the story again:

Death is a key that opens a new life.

Blake Xiao holds the player template, can fight monsters and upgrade, sit on the occupation system, and make great progress all the way.

Tighten the cloak of the night, hold the shadow as the blade, sharpen the minions with slaughter, and feed the ambition with fear.

From the Kingdom of Storms to Orgrimmar, his wicked deeds are known,

His notoriety is known to everyone from Icecrown to Pandaria.

When the black-clothed emperor emerged from the shadows, the whole world trembled.

This is the story of this man, from Khaz Modan six years in the Dark Portal…

- Description from novelbuddy

Accompanied by all kinds of crisis and despair, was the arrival of mankind’s first significant superhero.

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.”