MTL - My Master Disconnected Yet Again - Chapter 239 Guiding Black Dragon

One minute, I was a medical doctor rushing to work. The next, I woke up as a lowly omega inside the pages of my favorite werewolf novel The Psycho Alpha.Alpha Zachary Black. The cruel, ruthless, dangerously sexy Alpha of the Redwood Pack. The same man who kills anyone who breathes wrong around him. Especially women.He hates them. Despises weakness. And he definitely doesn’t believe in love. And he chose me as his personal omega. But there’s something wrong with me. I can hear his thoughts. Not just random thoughts. Dirty thoughts. Dark, possessive, obsessive ones about me. His so-called “personal omega.”He thinks I’m weak, fragile, breakable… but he also wants to ruin me, claim me, devour me. Every time he looks at me, his inner voice screams things his lips would never dare say out loud.I should be afraid of him. I should run far, far away. But how do you escape someone who owns your body and now, wants your soul?Worse, he’s starting to suspect I’m not who I say I am. Because I’m not just Christy, the omega. I’m a stranger in this world, trying to survive a plot I already know ends in blood.

Hoarding top-tier baddies, stealing people's wives, and cucking kings and emperors. That was Dapper’s daily routine. Life was sweet… until he caught the attention of the system enforcers.Liam, a teenage thief with a twisted way of thinking, died in the middle of a high-stakes heist. But just when he thought it was all over, he met a god, a failed god, who granted him a glitched system.Reincarnated into the body of a meek teenager named Dapper, Liam finds himself in a world ruled by magic, systems, and mythical creatures. This time, he’s determined to live the life he never could in his old one. The wild fantasies he once harbored are finally within reach… but at what cost?

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.”