MTL - South Korean Entertainment Industry News Record - Chapter 49

steal the power of others.

Evaluation:? ? ? Level, counterattack the top plane! ! !

Yang Xi felt helpless, the world was targeting him.

He is just a salted fish who rose up to save his sister, but in the end he shoulders the future destiny of the entire human race.

The adjudication organization established just to conceal the identity has developed into a giant force spanning countless planes.

The [Exercise] ability that he casually threw to his younger brother was developed by him into the strongest divine body of all ages…

This book was once titled “My Vest Can’t Be That Many”, “How to Build a Big Organization That Crosses All Realms”

- Description from novelbuddy

DING!![You killed a Level 3 Mutant Zombie for the first time!]-----DING!![You have crossed the limit of humanity! Entering the mutation stage!]-----DING!![Congratulations, user! You are now a being beyond human beings!]-----Being a good person cost him his life. When death sent him back, he vowed to take revenge and finish the job.Behind the icy cold that grips the world and the red light that fills the sky day and night, he must defy the zombie apocalypse.A safe house, unlimited food and drink, every conceivable weapon and a system to help him... But he has only two things on his mind: Survival and revenge.

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.”