MTL - Princess too Young, Prince too Old - Chapter 1142 Leave it then

A huge disaster [Dark Game] sweeping across the multiverse has come.

When all the players in the game die, the entire civilization will be destroyed together.

Zhang Feng took the last artifact of mankind and was reborn from the future before the beginning of the dark game.

First of all, the first step is to start the game with a life of 100 years, and extract the SSS-level talent [Almighty Power].

The journey to the gods begins here!

- Description from novelbuddy

An Earthling soul awakens in the ailing body of Loryarc Lapizburn, a disabled young man betrothed to the second daughter of the notorious Hallmeavan Family.The Goddess of Kiss blesses him with a unique ability known as the [Kiss for More] System, which allows him to gain skills by kissing.Can this new soul confront the dark secrets hidden within the Hallmeavan bloodline using his System?What about the chaos in his predecessor's county, where the branch families are constantly at odds?Why did the Goddess of Kiss choose him to receive this System?Kiss, kiss, and keep kissing...What awaits him in the end?Anything is possible... through kisses!

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.”