MTL - The city of Monkey King - Chapter 1245 Immortal, war!

“Be better”

Peter was cursed by those words, the very last words of his dying mother.

Cursed to be better. To be above the small squabbles... And so, the last five years of his childhood, he spent as a target of bullying, both in school and in his adoptive, step-family.

But it all changed, when a portal to another world appeared in the middle of his shed!

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Xu Xiang is a doomsday survivor who survived for forty years. Before she could fulfill her dream of becoming the overlord, she died.Opening her eyes, she returned to the fifteen years before the doomsday began. With the help of her family heirloom the dragon and phoenix ring, she hoards supplies and prepares to welcome the doomsday.Unfortunately, she was betrayed by her own family and died the night before the doomsday begins. With hatred in her heart, she swallowed the dragon and phoenix ring and jumped off the cliff.When she opened her eyes again, she was still alive, but arrived in a world that was plagued by endless wars and constant natural disasters. Although she's lucky enough to get another chance, she's unknowingly drawn into political turmoil where someone may be killed without knowing who the killer is.Can she survive in this ancient world that is more dangerous and full of hidden dangers than her own? Can she find the courage to trust someone else again? After two lifetimes, can she find her own happiness?

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.”