MTL - Crazy Psychologist - Chapter 73 that's not what it says

Possessing immortal arts, he can give life and he can bring death. Treading upon thousands of heroes, every corner of the city has his legend…

Death started her on the road of book transmigration. Transmigrating into different supporting females, snatching opportunities and men from the different worlds’ female leads’ hands. Hey, Female Lead, you can have the male lead, the supporting male is the one I want. Walking on this endless road, Xia Qiu did not expect that during these countless book transmigrations, the one she saved has always been the same person. He’s from outer space, trapped in the stream of time, with only a robot for company. Meeting her, falling for her…… However the sweetness isn’t easy. With a Boss as her man, Xia Qiu has a lot of worries. The Boss wants to bring me along as he destroys the earth, what should I do? #waiting online, quite urgent#

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”