MTL - Wings of Hung Chien - Chapter 42 42

I became a scientist for an evil organization.…But I’m too competent.

Surgeon Guan Ryo Is reborn in Naruto’s world! Enjoy his trip as he uses his knowledge of the story to find his path in this troubled world and eventually stand at the top of Konoha!

Li Guanqi was only six when he killed his abusive uncle to save his mother. Moved by the tragedies that had befallen the tiny child, an old man named Su Xuan adopted Li Guanqi. Eight years later, he left the village and told Li Guanqi to join the Daxia Sword Sect — while it may not be the richest sect, it was virtuous. Then, he gave Li Guanqi a sword coffin and made him promise 2 things: that he would always carry it on his back, and to only tell people it was an ordinary sword box.Will he be able to uncover the mysteries of his sword coffin? Why was there a spirit trapped inside it? Who exactly was his grandfather?His sister was worked to death, his mother was seriously ill, and his gambling-addicted uncle even set his sights on the money meant for his sister’s funeral. Li Guanqi, wielding a knife, killed the man, until he encountered an old man named Su Xuan. Eight years later, the youth had become a swordbearer. Behind him was not a scabbard, but a sword coffin, the coffin for burying swords! From then on, this youth with ambitions as vast as the skies stepped into the blood-soaked world of cultivation!

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.”