MTL - Mysterious World: I Live Forever By Hanging Up My Phone! - Chapter 499 Demon Transformation, Explosive Pill Secret Art! 【Subscribe】

A high school student that has lived as a mob-character ―― Mimori Touka

Cheng Mingyi was a little lonely throughout his life.

He only brought trouble for the brother who he grew up with and who always had his back. Through fate, due to an accident he became a second generation rich heir, Tan Feiyang. He thought, this time he could repay his Fifth brother.

Jian Ningzhe, became a first class actor with third rated reputation. One day, the infamous Tan Feiyang gave him an olive branch…

Jian Ningzhe refused to accept the hidden meaning behind it. Tan Feiyang “…Did he just ignore my present for him?”

- Description from Novelupdates

“In a land far to the east, there exists a strange store that has rejected a three Michelin star rating multiple times.

The prices are expensive. A combo set of soup and egg fried rice costs 288 RMB. Oh, I forgot it also includes a side dish of pickles. Even so, very many people line up to wait.

That place does not accept reservations. It only lets in people who are waiting in line there. Countless people make special trips to line up there. Of course, there’s nowhere to park planes or cars.

Their service is so terrible, the customers have to serve their own dishes and grab their own bowls and chopsticks, and they even have to wipe down their own tables! God, the boss is simply crazy.”

—《 Michelin Gourmet Magazine》

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”