MTL - Spiritualist In Korea - Chapter 717 so funny

I once believed I was the heroine of a modern fairytale, blessed with beauty, wealth, intelligence, and a powerful legacy. Men adored me, women envied me, and I was engaged to the most desirable man, Cole Fay. My life seemed perfect, a dream where I held the starring role. But on my eighteenth birthday, that illusion crumbled. The truth hit me hard: I wasn’t the protagonist, nor even the villain or a side character. I was just cannon fodder, a disposable part of someone else’s story. But when fate recognized the cruel joke of my life, I was granted a second chance. This time, I’ll write my own story, living for myself. And this time . . . I will never love you again.

In the first year of the fire calendar, a large-scale spiritual recovery has occurred around the world.

One year after the fire calendar, the Jingwei Division was established and began to contain supernatural beings on a large scale.

After three years of the fire calendar, Xun Xi traveled to this world full of despair. However, in front of him, there is only a diary written by himself before his death, who claims to be the future.

The diary revealed his future death.

In other words, every line and every sentence in the diary is his masterpiece.

And it will be updated!

“Others are the favored sons of the heavens who have traveled through the world. Wherever they go, they will be followed by chance. Why is it only me, where I will die wherever I go, I am just a rebel, a version orphan.”

“unfair!”

…………

Carrying a future diary in his arms, Xun Xi is struggling to survive in this desperate world. He firmly believes: My future style, I am the master!

- Description from novelbuddy

Beside the coast, a hundred-meter star gate is overflowing with light.

Outside the star gate, the army made of steel can’t see the edge at a glance.

On the sky, a fighter jet flew across the sky, interweaving the iron curtain.

In the distant ocean, aircraft carriers, destroyers, and frigates are all over the sea, ready to go.

All the muzzles were aimed at a figure walking out of the star gate.

“I order you to withdraw in the name of the Federal Command, otherwise, all-out war awaits you.”

“war?”

Ancient and Jinlai took a step forward, and his body rose against the wind. In an instant, he grew from less than two meters to a Chaos Demon God thousands of meters high. The brilliance of a white dwarf radiated from him, and his own gravity alone caused it to be caused by thousands of miles around. Lightning and thunder, tsunami tides.

He bows his head…

Looking at a toy-like war weapon.

Reaching out, a hydrogen bomb fell into his hand.

The electron degenerate star nucleus in the body releases helium, and the helium element expands. The terrifying high temperature instantly causes the isotopic elements of hydrogen to aggregate deuterium and tritium, and the energy explodes. The sudden white brilliance is like lighting a sun on the sea.

Before waiting for the sun’s energy to be released, he closed his hands together, and the blazing whiteness mixed with hundreds of millions of high temperatures was compressed and sealed in the palm of his hand, escaping less than half of it.

“I think you should choose peace.”

- 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.”