MTL - Heavens: Be a New Man - Chapter 16 he is prettier than you

There was a time where I was summoned to a different world. I spent more than a year as a Priestess from a different world. I fulfilled my role and decided to return to my original world. Before leaving, I confessed my feelings to my escort knight. And from there I was heartbroken. After returning to the original world for a year and half, I was summoned again. What? Apparently this time, nobody summoned me. I was sent out to a great extent and have a lost love. I cannot face anyone now! No one knows that I was a former Priestess and I can only quickly return to my original world. Even so, it does not seem to work out very well…

Before dying, the blind beauty Xiangnu accidentally entered an infinite escape world.

Flatten the Devil's Palace, eradicate the demonic cult, slaughter the demon lairs, sweep through the demon realm, dominate the heavens and earth, control the three realms, be the supreme master of the mysterious sect, master of the Nine Yin, the 17th head of the North Star Sword Sect, the Heavenly Fiend Lone Star, the Supreme Sword Soul, the Supreme Infinite Mysterious Heavenly Wishful Great Sword Patriarch... Also known as Iron Egg, known for the wild history of relentless killing.

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.”