MTL - Grumpy God [Quick Travel] - Chapter 62 The star father who cheated his son

“You raise your weapon as if it had meaning. My blade had severed meaning itself—you fool.” - Jinn BLADEThrough flames of chaos and the storms of war, Jinn’s story is not for the faint of heart. Fueled by the warmth that surged him forward and born by the catalyst that awoken his true potential and destiny.Through his blades alone shall he cut through destiny.Through his blades alone shall he cut through despair and torment.Through his blades alone shall he cut through his way to stand at the pinnacle of strength.Through his blades alone shall his enemies know fear. Fear of his strength and fear of his name.Jinn Blade is his name.This Novel falls into the Science Fantasy Genre and involves a lot of medieval fantasy elements while mixing together sci-fi elements.[Warning: This novel contains sensitive scenarios]

Transported to a garbage-filled planet in the interstellar era, Ji You was so poor she was nearly digging the soil to eat, but... the soil was toxic and inedible... With no other choice, she had to lower her standards and pick up trash and sell scrap, such as these beautiful grass seeds that no one wanted. She gathered them and threaded them into beads to sell online.But once she posted them online, someone left a negative review: 'Selling grass seeds? Are you crazy for money?'Days later, this person was pounding the wall in regret: 'I beg you, sell me a grass seed bead, just one! Just one is enough.'Ji You coldly responded: 'Not selling!'And then there's the sparkling stones lying all over the streets that nobody wanted. She picked them up, polished them into bracelets, and sold them online.People lashed out with their words: 'Selling such broken rocks - have you never seen money?'Days later, those same people were crying and wailing: 'I was blind, I was so shortsighted, to overlook such beautiful and pretty stones. I beg you, sell me one.'Ji You spread her hands: 'Gone.'

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.”