MTL - Emulator: Opening Talent Super Gigolo - Chapter 175 , only for this

Su Yu, who was attempting to create a second account in the VR trading card game “Yu-Gi-Oh! World Link Online”, inexplicably traveled to the game world, and even had his own NPC identity.Time went back to one month before the game was launched, the nameless Pharaoh was still sleeping in the body of the high school student Yugi Muto, and the Duel City with cross-generational significance had not yet started.When the game was officially launched, players logged in and found that there was a new NPC in the game that was not in the original game.Yuei Vu: Do the players over there want to buy a booster box? Fifty-one packs, five hundred and ten cards, fair price, no cashback!The players stared directly at the Pot of Greed marked as UR in the product list, their eyes were burning, and the same thoughts came into their minds…

He possessed the Xuan Gate Medical Arts and had fortuitously obtained a heaven-defying Spiritual Treasure!

When he first crossed over, Chen Liguo did not want to accept it.

But he quickly discovered, after he crossed, he found that all the men he met had perfect figures and eight-packs. Furthermore, these men liked him.

As a gay man, Chen Liguo was so excited he shed tears of joy.

However, the world obviously wouldn’t have such good things.

Because, just as he was drooling and about to pounce, a system appeared and told him: Buddy, sorry to let you down, but you can’t be with these people.

Chen Liguo: What if I insist?

System: Hehe

……

Chen Liguo: You trash system! Destroying my youth! Ruining my s*x life!

- Description from novelupdates

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.”