MTL - To Hold One’s Joy - Chapter 81 here with me

Neptune in One Piece, Tail Beast in Naruto, Fate’s Fantasy Species, Gourmet Captive Cuisine.
This is a dimension restaurant opened in Marvel, connected to dimension world, welcome you to taste the deliciousness of world.

- Description from Uukanshu

I was a 28-year-old researcher in Japan, and before I knew it, I have been reincarnated in a fantasy world.

Furthermore, I had a half-spirit father and a spirit mother.

An aunt who is deeply attached to father, cousins who are problem children. Girls who cause awkward situations as in an otome.

Furthermore, in order to gain the affection of a love interest, a cousin even had a word battle with a king!

I am very busy helping humans as well as spirits!

And when I find people who are targeting my father,

「I’ll crush you.」

The cheat protagonist deters those who aim at her family. This is such a story.

The once greatest Saint underneath the heavens has been reborn after one hundred years. He cultivates with mighty skills, and he fights to once again reach the top of the world!

Don’t compete with me when it comes to concocting pills, 100% effectiveness means nothing to me.

Don’t compete with me when it comes to cultivation speed, I won’t be responsible when you die from embarrassment.

Don’t compete with me when it comes to experience, as I’m an ancient ancestor.

The existence of Jiang Chen is destined to ridicule thousands of geniuses…

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.”