Stop Messing Around, Mr Bo! - Chapter 2102

In a world where martial artists reign supreme, strength is everything. Unfortunately, that logic doesn't apply to a certain Florida Man.

Refined in the nuclear fallout wasteland, Leo was the strongest mutant alive. He carried an alien artifact, allowing him to exchange his lifespan for modern items. After 50,000 years of solitary life in a humanless world, he collected enough lifespan to transmigrate to another habitable world.

Leo was later thrown into a mysterious planet. He soon discovered that his body produced radiation, and it mutated the surrounding plants and grasses. Worrying that he might ruin the beautiful planet, he chose to live in seclusion.

Unfortunately, the local population soon discovered his existence, and a misunderstanding ensued.

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.”

Back to the end of Ming Dynasty, he was reduced to a slave.

This emperor, a beggar can do it, a slave can do it, a bandit can do it, but a house slave can’t do it?

- Description from novelbuddy