MTL - The Monkey King - Chapter 20

What is luck? Walk to pick up money? Buying a lottery ticket will win the jackpot?

Qin Yun picked up a copper coin and activated the wealth luck system.

“The balance has reached 10,000, and you can open a first-level fortune-gathering array every month. To open a second-level wealth-gathering array, you need a balance of 1 million…”

(The group has been established, group number: 614799090, interested book friends can join and discuss the plot together.)

“Are you good at Acting? Singing? Dancing?”“Are you handsome?”“Do you have the talent?”“How about popularity?”For someone who has been in the showbiz industry for half of his life, Park Juwon could confidently answer that he had it all.From countless awards, fans, and money, he was a star loved by everyone — even the most sought-after celebrities and idols.However, in a twist of fate, Park Juwon suddenly encountered an accident that would change his almost perfect life.When he thought that it was his end, he suddenly found himself transmigrated in the body of Nam Minjae, a rookie actor, who had been dreaming of hitting the big stage since he was a child.[System Integrating…][Ding!][System: Become a Legendary Superstar!]

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.”

In this world, there is the beautiful mutual and telepathy love.