Age of Mecha: Divine-grade Genetic Extraction - Chapter 143 - Advanced Smart Mecha

Zhao Yu came to the deserted planet to build a base, create an underground city and hide in it.

Worried about the threat from the unknown civilization, Zhao Yu dug out a small half of the planet and built star destroyer cannons capable of destroying the planet, as well as tens of thousands of fully intelligent mechanical dogs in various forms.

The defensive robotic dog, the Gate God, would disguise itself as a small mountain and fortify around the base.

Detection and gathering robot dog – Tsotan, would disguise as a rolling stone and wander around the planet to collect useful resources.

Combat robot dog – Nezha, would disguise as a crater, scattered around the base, ready to be able to attack the enemies that may come.

Around the base, they were ready to attack the enemies that might come.

On this day, his gathering robot dog – Tsotan, dragged back a spaceship. It captured three alien creatures, claiming to be from Earth.

Zhao Yu was confused. “Didn’t I travel to the deep space of the universe? How come I’m on the back of the moon and being treated as an alien by humans?”

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The Super-Dimensional Game has descended upon Blue Star. Everyone can enter the game and obtain a World Fragment, becoming a deity and leading their tribe to conquer all directions, even conquering the alternate world.

Fortunately, Logan, who transmigrated here, has a Drop System. Whether it's him or his subordinates, they can all receive drops after victory.

[Log: Your believers have defeated the wolf pack. Drop: Bond—“Wolf Pack”]

[Log: Your believers have defeated the Sun Elves. Drop: Bloodline—“Child of the Sun”]

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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.”