MTL - Since 2000 - Chapter 111 : Having money is not a good thing

After Chu Xia transmigrated, the villain forcefully grabbed onto his chin. With a gloomy expression and dark eyes, he coldly said, “Since you really enjoy hiring people to ruin others, why don’t you get a taste of your own medicine today.”

Chu Xia glanced at the goons standing behind the villain with eyes filled with a third of ridicule, a third of disgust, and a fourth of disappointment: That’s it? That’s all you got?

Gong before: He isn’t worthy of being compared to XXX. / Stay away from me, don’t touch me. / I’m straight, don’t get any ideas…

Gong after: So fragrant.

- Description from Novelupdates

Ye Chen transmigrated into the world of cultivation and became the Saint Master of a Sacred Land. However, he discovered that the Heavenly Origin Sacred Land’s source of income took a big hit, and their finances were in the red. The Sacred Land is basically on the brink of bankruptcy.And so, Ye Chen invented the mobile phone for the cultivation world, causing a sensation throughout the realm. And this was only the beginning!Foundation Establishment cultivators delivering packages on their swords.Qi Refinement cultivators attending online classes from the comfort of their homes.The three major Sacred Lands all opening online shops!And a legendary Saintess becoming the queen of live streaming!All these changes started on the day the cultivation world’s version of a mobile phone was released!

“I was ripped into this world against my will, so anyone who gets in my way from going back home... I'll show no mercy.”…Deklan is a renowned high school bully born with the unique impulse to do bad things.But he turned his life around.He and his father agreed to change for the better after spiraling into depression following the death of Deklan's mother. Instead of bullying, Deklan watched gory horror movies to suppress his impulse, and it worked.It worked so well that the impulse was essentially gone, replaced by an obsessive love of horror movies.Fate, however, played a cruel twist on him.He died.But death wasn’t the end; he was transmigrated into another world.In a world where the metaphysical realm bled into the tangible reality, a world where Ghosts were real, Deklan must find a way to go back home. And if the only way to go home was to become invincible by taming all ghosts first, then so be it.Fortunately, his newfound hobby gave him a powerful blessing.“You don’t scare me. Your face is so generic that at least a hundred horror movies starred you.”“System, this ghost is strong... Use Agna the Red Scarecrow Persona!”“This ghost is fast... use that persona!”“This ghost is so tough... use the other persona!”Others can only assimilate with one Ghost or none. Deklan? He can assimilate them all.Will Deklan be able to become invincible and go back home to reunite with his father, or was his transmigration more than meets the eye? Even if he can, with a fight for survival in every corner, will he come back the same person?

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.”