MTL - Return of the Goddess - Chapter 23

It is said that all illegitimate children recognized by the boss can inherit a mountain!

The difference is that other people inherit the golden and silver mountains,

Li Guoguo inherited the real mountains. Fortunately, there are several.

At the same time, heaven gave her a farming system. If you don’t farm, you’ll die!

One day, a video introducing the tourist scenery of Taoyuan village was added to the live broadcast platform.

There are clusters of fruit trees, magnificent waterfalls, beautiful scenery, quiet streams, and small animals.

People: Liar! I’m in this city. It’s impossible to have this scenery in the wild mountains!

Not long after, people said: Awesome..

- Description from Novelupdates

1 drop of blood = 1-Up

Other people game overnight, I game overnight and bleed.

Ever since the dimensional storms descended upon Earth, numerous dimensional zones have appeared, bringing with them all kinds of dimensional creatures—Immortals, Buddhas, Devils, Angels, Elves, etc.

Yet, all these strange dimensional zones can turn into dungeon instances on my phone. Other people risk their lives adventuring, I spend all my time gaming.

Monsters drop dimensional crystals that boost stats, imbue new skills, and join me as Companion Beasts. These Companion Beasts fight alongside me or alone, augmenting me with their skills and strength. Rare monsters in real life? I’ll just restart the game with a drop of blood to grind it.

I really need a blood transfusion.

“The simplification of the extreme mountain breathing method… the simplification is successful… the extreme mountain breathing method → ​​breathing!”

Chen Fei took a deep breath.

“Extreme mountain breathing method +1 experience.”

“…”

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”