MTL - Tattoo Awakening: All Kinds of Divine Beasts Carved on My Back - Chapter 171 game

Aidan was thrust into this word of death and magic against his will. He was weak, Frail and pathetic but his unyielding hardwork led him to the peak where he sits unrivaled, Now he tries to find other ways to cure his unending bordom.Netorase—Netorare—Overpowered—Harem—Elf’s—Giants—Incest—

Xia Ruofei, a retired special warfare elite, unexpectedly discovered that the ancestral scrolls contained a small space that was independent.

There are Lingtan waters that promote plant growth in the space. There are mysterious spiritual flowers that cure all diseases. They also bring ten times the time flow rate. What is planted is a fine product, everything grows fast, and what can be cultivated is spiritual…

From then on, planting flowers, planting trees, raising animals, and licking beautiful women, Xia Ruofei opened a wonderful life.

- Description from ptwxz (translated)

In the Divine Bizarre world, where monsters and strange beings run amok, human lives are as insignificant as grass.Having transmigrated to this world, Jia Ren just wants to rely on the Proficiency Panel to cultivate in peace.He would keep a low profile,Until he attains immortality.“Do you have any lifespan-extending Cultivation Techniques?”“The Turtle Spirit Technique, created by a Foundation Establishment Cultivator.”“Not only does the Turtle Spirit Technique have a strong life-extending effect, but when combined with Turtle Spirit Ointment, it can even make up for lost years of life.”“I am buying the Turtle Spirit Technique!”

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.”