MTL - Mecha and Knife - Chapter 815 Galaxy to the Mountain of Gods

The world has changed, and so have the people.

Travel through the world of martial arts, get a god-level kidnapping system, and vow to be the number one kidnapper in the universe.

As long as you don’t want to tie it, there is nothing you can’t tie!

Guo Jing, your daughter has been kidnapped by Lao Tzu. If you don’t want me to do anything to her, you can exchange it with Jiuyin Zhenjing and Eighteen Palms of Subduing Dragon!

What, so obedient?

Then I’ll give you a grandson for free.

…………

Yang Guo, your aunt was kidnapped by Lao Tzu. If she knew the face, she would have cut up her own little penis!

What? Yin Zhiping, do you want to cut too?

Well, I will send you a dragon-slaying knife, cut iron like mud, and guarantee that there will be no pain!

…………

Duan Zhengchun, your wife and daughter have been tied up by Lao Tzu, hurry up and hand over all the martial arts secrets of Yi Yang Finger, Six Meridian Divine Sword, etc., and then kill yourself!

What? Want to have sex with your wives again before you die?

Fuck you, they have been scolded by Lao Tzu “Japanese…

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”