I Want to Slack Off at the Demon Bureau - Chapter 75 - 0

Lu Changsheng, who transmigrated as the apprentice of Elixir Garden, originally wanted to work hard to become a divine doctor who could save people. But when he began to practice martial arts, he found that every time he practiced martial art to perfection, he could improve his Comprehension.Moreover, it seemed that his Comprehension could improve ceaselessly. Lu Changsheng wondered where the upper limit of his Comprehension was.-----------------Unremarkable: slightly better than waste.Preliminary: an ordinary personPotential: the potential is shownWhiz: capable of a lot!Renowned: sharp and invincible!Genius: the name of genius spreads to the world!Legend: establish a sect and be the first!Saint: shock the world!top-level comprehension: Unspeakable, invisible, and inaudible!

Life Mission – a game that has become reality.

There is a very strange restaurant in the City of Sin.

Elves and dwarves must share a table, orcs are strangely well behaved, dragons are only welcomed on the small square in front of the restaurant, and the demons must bring their own stool.

This strange restaurant with their strange rules continuous to attract a long line of customers.

“This place serves the best food! The chef of this restaurant is a genius!” Some of the guests in the restaurant left glowing reviews. But these guests have a word of warning for other guests, “No matter what you do, never, never attempt to kidnap the boss or try to ‘eat and run’. You will die.”

A cute little girl stood near the door, and demanded in her tiny voice, “You have eaten the food, now pay up, or I will beat you to death.” The five-meter tall dragon suddenly felt a chill running up its spine.

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.”