MTL - Military Technology - v2 Chapter 1933 New 1st generation 27-hand ultra-miniature multi-tentacle surgical robot

After transmigrating back from the Cultivation World, she started farming and live streaming to sale fresh local produce in hometown.——Having failed to transcend the tribulation of the Golden Core, Song Tan returned to the modern era, only to find herself at the scene of a serial car accident. She barely survived thanks to the timely rescue of a benefactor.With that, what else was there to consider? Forget being a corporate slave, let's go back home and farm!!!With her experience in cultivation, Song Tan created her own picturesque land, foraged for wild vegetables, cooked farm meals, picked cucumbers, started live streaming, and sold mountain delicacies...

In the expansive expanse of existence, there exist realms concealed from the awareness of ordinary folk.Rain Weathers, an unremarkable teenager with average looks, physique, and grades, was leading an uneventful life.However, everything took a dramatic turn one fateful day when he found himself plunged into a vivid dream, a dream that unveiled a world beyond imagination — a world teeming with spirits, monsters, and conversing frogs.This was the Spirit Realm.Transformed into a player by the mysterious machinations of the universe, Rain, alongside other chosen individuals, found themselves thrust into a perilous world.They were tasked with navigating their newfound domain, establishing their territories, all while fending off relentless onslaughts from beasts, defending their territories from other races, and making sure to stay alive for another day.

Before dying, the blind beauty Xiangnu accidentally entered an infinite escape world.

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.”