MTL - Live Surgical Broadcast - Chapter 65 I'm wrong

Tang Zhen transmigrated to an apocalyptic world, where humans struggled to survive in various buildings that they built because the ground was covered in lethal dangers that were invisible to the naked eye. Tang Zhen transmigrated along with his mutated cell phone that was packed with miraculous applications.

There were all kinds of cities – some could fly in the sky, some could submerge into the ocean while some could become invisible – and shocking secrets were hidden within them.

The power of Tang Zhen’s city was…

He established a city and quickly leveled up his army with speeding tools. Then, he dominated this alternate world by seizing other cities.

He sat at the very top. Beneath his feet was a vast floating city guarded by dragons and surrounded by angels. Countless cannons were also set up at various corners of the city.

A million miles ahead, in the depths of the ocean, there was another city as large as a continent awaiting his conquest.

aira swore she’d keep her heart locked until her final year ended. No distractions. No love. Just goals.But then he walked in—arrogant, mysterious, and dangerously charming.One wrong glance turned into late-night texts. One shared secret became a stolen kiss.And suddenly, the future she’d planned… didn’t seem so clear anymore.Can she graduate without breaking her heart? Or will love ruin everything before the last bell rings?

One day, a tower appeared in the skies of all the major cities…

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.”