MTL - I Have a Game Clone - Chapter 207 nowhere

Otaku Lin Fei crossed over to a new world…

Rare and exotic medicinal pellets? I eat them like snacks…

Powerful martial art secret instruction manuals? I can sell them like newspaper bundles…

What..You’re an absolute genius? I wreck geniuses like you for a living…

Why am I so powerful?

It’s because I have leveling system version 1.0!

- Description from Novelupdates

One choice can change everything in the Multiverse—a simple decision, a single moment, a shift in fate. In the vast expanse of timelines, Subaru Natsuki’s life takes an unexpected turn when a seemingly random choice disrupts the course of his journey.My name is Subaru. I used to think that being transmigrated into a different world would be a dream come true. But after dying countless times, I've realized it's nothing like I imagined. Death doesn’t come easy, and neither does power. I thought I had it all figured out, but now I find myself burdened with gifts... or curses, depending on how you see it.They call to me—the voices of the Witches.“Wow, sorry for visiting you,” Minerva’s voice echoes in his mind, her tone both playful and apologetic. Subaru grits his teeth. He knows too well what this means.“Sorry, Minerva,” Subaru mutters, though his voice is tinged with frustration and confusion.-----MC: SubaruShip: Subaru X HaremNow to make things clear, Suberu is still going too die, die a lot almost, he will still need too deal with everything, just because he and more power's doesn't mens he is fully safe so yeah

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.”