MTL - God Of Soul System - v3 Chapter 98 Promotion of the team

In 2040, The Earth was bathed in powerful radiation when a star went supernova, this radiation granted 50% of humans superhuman abilities but also created a nightmare for them as animals, insects, and carnivorous plants were mutated and became overpowered with intelligence, human started teetering on the brink of survival, a boy with no powers and no father, with a mother in a coma, seems destined for obscurity, but one night changed his life, with a new found hope to cure his mum from the everlasting sleep—Gene Elixir— he went on on a journey that would reshape his destiny...~Voracious Sovereign... Gene Devourer...Pray you won't be devoured by this power you wield which hunger is insatiable~~You call yourself an opportunist... But... you aren't free. A hungry man is not a free man...~

“∞” is the symbol for infinity.What would happen if one possessed infinite skill points?Living life anew, with infinite skill points and any skill instantly at full level, Zhong Lin wants to see who is above the nine heavens.-------------This is the story of an ordinary person traversing into a different world, slaughtering all adversaries with infinite skill points.

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.”