My Cell Prison - Chapter 1257 - 1256: Formidable Enemy

For a certain LOL competition, a certain online streamer famous for pissing people off was currently explaining and broadcasting it at the same time.

Streamer: This support, so tr*sh.

Streamer: If that jungler was my teammate, I would already be idling at the fountain and playing piano for him by now.

Streamer: I recommend that this player go back and properly practice how to last hit.

Audience: What bullshit! If you’re any better, then you do it!

Streamer: Daddy I really can do it.

Audience: Okokok. If you can do it then I’ll chop off my head so you can kick it.

A few months later, LOL’s veteran pro team TTC announced a new mid laner, Soft. A boy with flashy blue hair appeared in front of the audience and played Zed to utter perfection, killing everyone he saw, causing all the female fans to begin toeing the line of infidelity.

During the MVP interview after the match, everyone held their breath and eagerly watched this newcomer.

Only to see the boy accept the microphone, smile and ask, “That water friend with the StarTV user ID ‘Suburb King 101,’ my team’s address is on the official website, when will you mail your head over?”

After a certain regular season match finished, the staff member went backstage to urge the team members to go onstage and conduct their interviews, only to see TTC’s new mid laner and jungler standing in the corner.

TTC’s number one ace · jungler daddy Road pressed their team’s new mid laner Soft against the wall. He lowered his eyes and asked lowly, “At the interview, do you know what you did?”

That quick-tempered mid laner, who had solidified his image as a troll in the audience’s eyes the very first time he went on stage, turned completely red. “I know. I won’t curse at anyone… I definitely won’t curse at anyone.”

Nikola Tesla, the genius, a man who lost everything to balant capitalism and betrayal, awakens to find himself reborn as an orphan. What is this world? Why is he here? And will he once again fall for the capitalistic betrayal or pave his own way? What would happen if his genius adapts to cunningness of the society?

Longevity Celestial Dynasty, Nine Years of Destiny.

China is in chaos, and the people are struggling to live.

The imperial rule collapsed, and the Western barbarians attacked with the religion of the gods.

The new warlords are everywhere, and they are divided into one side.

Natural disasters such as floods and droughts, the overturning of the earth dragon, the sandstorm tornado, the acid rain, the red moon, and the falling of meteorites have come one after another.

There are also countless monsters running rampant, strange clusters, ghosts and ghosts, indescribable monsters, or mysterious phenomena that cannot be understood.

In this dark and chaotic world, Tao Qian opened his eyes and found himself a prisoner who was about to be beheaded in Caishikou…!

- 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.”