MTL - Guardian of Douluo - Chapter 95

In the wizard world, the mysterious magic cube gave Lin Suo the ability to fuse all things.However, sometimes the recipe was a bit strange. The Evil God would shake his head when he looked at it.Horse corpse x 2 + stone + wood + clay + tent cloth = Double Horse Chariot.Octopus corpse + flower of enlightenment + black goat corpse = octopus flower with black hair?Skeleton + Bloodthirsty Vine + Vampire Eyeball = Thorny Creature Eyeball???Lin Suo: As long as there are corpses in the recipe, it will definitely make the Evil God frown.

[+18 Novel]Highschool fantasies? Taboos? Blackmail? Neighbors? Twins?Come and witness it all.Max, a fat fuck tech genius was transmigrated to a parallel world similar to earth but not earth, after having regretted not living his youth to the fullest while spending his time as an adult cupped on the desk all day long.Reincarnated in the body of a dead fifteen year old, also Max. A year later, he successfully activated the Taboo System that came to this world with him. And began receiving all sorts of Taboo Tasks within the school premises in order to fulfill his Taboo Quest: SSS Ranked Taboo Student.A school with hierarchy, filled with rich scions from all over the world, and world class teachers. What could really be going on beneath the surfaces.CONGRATULATIONS![Taboo System Activated][---- 100%][SSS- A lonely loser lifestyle without being a loser. Accomplished.]Ding![Taboo Task][Target: Sophia]Growing from a fat decrepit loser in just a year, he went from being a nobody to a world class student while being the bane of every lady he encounters.

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.”