MTL - Douluo Dalu - v3 Chapter 16 Plate crystal hair dragon needle (3)

Heaven and Earth serve as the guesthouse for all living things, with Time being the sojourner since time immemorial.

As with the difference between dreaming and awakening, the distinction between life and death is diverse and confused, and changing.

What awaits us beyond time, once we have transcended life and death, heaven and earth?

Tao Ti was the daughter of Taotie and the mount of War God, who bravely sacrificed herself to save War God. War God collected her soul fragments and sent them into reincarnation.Taotie, a Fierce Beast, feeds on Evil Spirit, resentment, and misfortune.The reincarnated little Tao Ti was switched by a maid and sold to the mountains, where she faced daily struggles of hunger and inadequate clothing.Fortunately, a variety show entered the village and filmed little Tao Ti, causing a sensation in the comments section~【Such a cute human cub, don't block her from the camera, I want to watch!】【The show crew should give her more screen time, poor little thing!】【Isn't she much more beautiful than a female star?】A talent agency quickly came to sign her, but her real elder brother, a big shot, rushed over to take her home!She not only exploded in popularity in the entertainment industry but also became the beloved darling of a wealthy family!

Xuan Yi was transported into the fictional world and became an elder of the Black Sword Sect! The moment he entered the world, he was at the Sea-Splitting Rank!

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.”