MTL - Daily Life Appreciated By Cats - Chapter 60 destroy

In 2036, humankind steps foot on Mars for the first time.

The following were the talents of other cultivators: Divine Spiritual Root, Unique Body, Double Eyes, Divine Bones.

This was the talent of Chen Jingzhai: Bug Abuse.

Chen Jingzhai did not have any unique talent until he found out he could abuse bugs.

When he encountered a new martial art, he could instantly see the pros and cons and the weakness of the art.

When he fought, he could notice his opponent’s weakness and use that to his advantage.

When he brewed pills, he could abuse a special bug that allowed him to mass-produce high-quality pills.

Not only he could discover bugs while cultivating, but also in some special circumstances.

With the help of his new power, he began on a one-of-a-kind cultivation journey where he would become a legend.

“I’ve been possessed into the controversial makjang drama ‘Gwangin’ (The Lunatic). Of all roles, I’m the omega secretary to an alpha with omega-phobia. It’s hard enough hiding my identity, but I’m also in charge of all sorts of annoying tasks: managing the protagonist’s diet, wardrobe, and house; coaxing and soothing the beta he loves. My goal is to survive until the ending where the protagonist meets the strange beta who thinks even his obsession is love, leading to a happy ending… I think I smell an omega somewhere.’ ‘That’s… impossible.’ If I speak carelessly, I die. If I mess up my work, I die. If I run away, I die. And if the fact that I’m an omega is revealed… I really die. ‘Right. It shouldn’t be possible, but that’s why I feel so f*cking awful, Secretary Kim.’ Will I be able to make it back alive…?”

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.”