MTL - The Big Brother’s Little Ancestor is So Sweet - Chapter 539 I am an NPC in a holographic game (9)

Mimizuku, a small girl with chains on her wrists and ankles and the numbers “332” branded onto her forehead, wanders into the Forest of Night seeking to be eaten by a monster. However, when the ruler of the monsters, the mysterious and beautiful “King of Night,” refuses to eat her, she tries to formulate a way to convince him otherwise.

Synopsis: Apocalypse King: The Return of LucianLucian died in the apocalypse—betrayed, powerless, and consumed by the undead. But fate gave him a second chance. Reborn one month before the end, he awakens with future knowledge, an overpowered system, and a ruthless new personality.This time, he will not be weak. This time, he will rule.With Infinite Storage, he stockpiles weapons, food, and everything necessary to survive the apocalypse. Winning the $3 billion lottery, he builds an impenetrable super shelter, reinforced with military technology, luxury, and high-tech defenses. Using his Beauty Evaluation System, he gathers only the most stunning women—90+ points or higher—into his harem, ensuring their unwavering loyalty.As zombies evolve, superpowers awaken, and the world crumbles into madness, Lucian will steal, conquer, and dominate.No gods. No heroes. Only the Apocalypse King.A brutal, R18+ tale of survival, power, and harem in a world where the strong take everything.

A Pill Emperor of his generation was set up by a traitor.

Since then, the world lost a Qingyun Zi and gained an invincible silkpants.

Once again, walking the Great Dao of Alchemy.

How can I defy the heavens . . . with the medicine in my hands!

- 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.”