MTL - Doom Lord - v2 Chapter 853 Scared

Adrian Voss was a forgotten beta tester—erased by a corrupt game company that put profit over players.Now reborn in Primordial Abyss with a glitched class that lets him control dungeon bosses, he doesn’t grind levels… he grinds players.Every monster he subjugates becomes a weapon. Every raid boss he enslaves earns him passive income. And every overconfident guild that steps into his domain?They drop loot when they die.But this isn't just another OP power trip. Adrian doesn't win because he's stronger—he wins because he's smarter. He lays traps like a raid leader, exploits mechanics like a dev, and rewrites the system from the shadows.From dungeons to PvP, he turns the most advanced gaming system ever built into a weapon that stabs its creators in the back.Now the streamer assassins, sponsored guilds, and even the developers are hunting for the one they call...The Dungeon Phantom.Too bad they don’t realize:The real dungeon isn’t the game.It’s the one they’re walking into.Let the hunt begin.

Emperor Zi Yu used 5 strikes of his axe to split mountains and unify everyone underneath the heavens. He partitioned the land into 9 areas, thus establishing the Nine Cauldrons which eventually became known as the 9 prefectures.

In the eyes of Chi Zuxu, Chi Yi is a typical delinquent with the three big ‘NOs’— no morals, no virtues, no principles. To her, though, he is a classic baddie who is heartless, soulless, and inhuman.

After the girl breaks and climbs through his glass window on the second story, she peeps at him with an innocent demeanor.

“Chi Zuxu, lend me the other half of your bed!” she wolf-whistles at him blatantly. The man admonishes with a scowl, “Chi Yi, aren’t you shameless!”

Inside the cinema, as Chi Yi’s little hands restlessly grope the man’s body without chagrin, she tells him smilingly, “Chi Zuxu, I want to do bad things with you!” Holding a look of woeful disgrace, he knocks her head. “Chi Yi, aren’t you embarrassed!”

It is a lovely love story between a barefaced and a reticent. But, Mr Reticient, please don’t cry when Miss Barefaced finally slips away.

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.