MTL - From Mortal Flesh To Smashing Planets - Chapter 131 invitation to battle

Chu Li was a particle physicist until a freak accident took his life and transmigrated him to a parallel universe – one where he wakes up with inexplicable abilities and finds himself in the running for a job in the imperial palace.

The full-level boss Lu Jingzhi crossed over.

Start with a thatched cottage, with three family members attached.

Lu Jingzhi gnawed on the bun and clenched her fists—rise up, she wants to rise up!

After all, he is the owner of the three-line ability, sitting on the space, with a lot of food, so is it possible that he will starve to death in the valley?

It’s just—something is wrong with my mother, what, she was reborn, and she was an imperial concubine in her previous life?

There is something wrong with my sister, what, is she a female president from modern times?

There is something wrong with my sister, what, she also wore it…

Lu Jingzhi was ecstatic… the whole family worked together, is it still far from the days of eating hot pot and living in a villa?

Hunting, farming, making jam, growing peppers, opening a milk tea shop… Life is getting more and more prosperous.

Ally level 8,6,6,6! Enemy level 6,5,4…0?

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.”