After the Female Supporting Character Who Lost Favor Logged off, Her Ten Older Brothers Went Crazy - Chapter 47 - : Nan Jin Meets Nan Qiao, An Accident

Nameless Traveler, “If you could bring the martial arts, Inner Strength, Daoist skills, Divine Skills, and other abilities you've learned in the game into reality, would you play such a game?”Gamer, “Of course, I would play. Is there really such a great thing?”Nameless Traveler, “Then, if you were to die in the game, and you would also die in reality, would you still play?”Gamer, “Let me think about it—um, I think I would play, as long as I'm careful to avoid provoking higher-level monsters.”Nameless Traveler, “What if the game was so difficult that a Little Monster at the entrance of a village could easily chop you down, would you still play?”Gamer, “……”

Xu Xiang is a doomsday survivor who survived for forty years. Before she could fulfill her dream of becoming the overlord, she died.Opening her eyes, she returned to the fifteen years before the doomsday began. With the help of her family heirloom the dragon and phoenix ring, she hoards supplies and prepares to welcome the doomsday.Unfortunately, she was betrayed by her own family and died the night before the doomsday begins. With hatred in her heart, she swallowed the dragon and phoenix ring and jumped off the cliff.When she opened her eyes again, she was still alive, but arrived in a world that was plagued by endless wars and constant natural disasters. Although she's lucky enough to get another chance, she's unknowingly drawn into political turmoil where someone may be killed without knowing who the killer is.Can she survive in this ancient world that is more dangerous and full of hidden dangers than her own? Can she find the courage to trust someone else again? After two lifetimes, can she find her own happiness?

“Is Fate the excuse of the forsaken, is Free Will the delusion of the chosen?”Such was a question that Xavier, the Demon King, never had the chance to ask himself. As he lay defeated, awaiting his death, he wondered about the wretched life he lived.'The hero who killed me, the one who held the same ambitions as me. We both wanted good for the people, for the world. We are both two sides of the same coin, yet, fate decided that he will be the one the light will shine on.Perhaps it was me too, perhaps it was my karma for flowing the rivers of blood with my sword. But still... It was fate that squashed the humanity in me first!Damn fate, if I had one more chance, I would've lived for myself more, I wouldn't have taken this arbitrary role of being a necessary evil... This world, this game of destiny... It can burn to ashes for all I care.'As he sunk into the cold embrace of death, a certain [REDACTED] heard his dying wish with amusement and cast their die, reversing the wheel of time one last time and going all in on him on a risky gamble with the stakes of their world.

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.”