MTL - Mr. Zhou’s Little Cutie - Chapter 817 817

After opening the ancient well in his backyard, Li Yin’s life has changed since then!

Sixth Prince Li Yin? 21st century otaku Li Yin? He can travel freely between the two worlds, what kind of life should he choose?

Harem? Hegemony? trickery? Is that all?

No! With the advantages of modern technology, he wants to build his fiefdom into the economic center of the world, and the world map will be filled with his colonies…

PS: This is written about the Tang Dynasty, but it is a parallel time and space. There is no need for historical burdens, and it will be a little different from the real Tang Dynasty. Please don’t be serious about the textual research party, because some small details like titles are annoying. This is not what I wanted, thank you!

- Description from novelbuddy

What would you do if you were transported to an academy where becoming immortal was possible? Where magic spells and swordsmanship were your courses and fighting zombies and wars were your exams? Dawn Academy was no ordinary learning institution and Xiao Lin was about to find out how mysterious and exciting this magical academy really was.

Karnak, a human born as an illegitimate child in a fallen aristocratic family, rose to the transcendent rank and became the Death King. Even god couldn’t contend with him.However, after becoming transcendent, he missed his human emotions, such as satisfaction and other things.So, with his oldest friend and second-in-command, who shared his belief, he decided to return in time with Barros and start over.However, something seemed wrong with this timeline.Now is the beginning of the new adventure of the Death King Karnak.

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.”