After My Rebirth, I Escaped My Marriage - Chapter 857 - : Wen Yanqing is Very Satisfied

[Inappropriate person] [Technical flow] [Reckless man] [Abusive tricks] [Funny] [Hot blood] [Black belly] [Not the Virgin]

Traveling to another blue star, Lin Chen awakened the “Crafting and Selling System”. You can capture strangeness, sell it to the black mine for mining, and exchange for strangeness

It’s a pity that there are too few weirdnesses in this peaceful world. Under such circumstances, Lin Chen has searched for needles in a haystack for twenty years, but still has little to gain.

Until one day, Lin Chen received an invitation letter from a horror game…

This time, the purchase life started.

In the ghost restaurant, the head waiter looked at his empty restaurant with tears streaming down his face.

In the weird school, the students were shivering, and the principal lit cigarettes for them.

There is also a dungeon deserted village that makes all human players feel horrible, and eventually becomes a real deserted village.

I don’t know when, a legend of a treacherous dealer named “Uncle Chen” began to spread in the horror world…

This book is also known as:

【Professional Life of a Strange Dealer】

[The sixth child in a horror game]

【The strange nightmare in the horror world】

【Dungeon Terminator】

- Description from novelbuddy

Mochizuki Touya, a 15-year-old boy, who got zapped by a flash of lightning due to a freak accident caused by God, wakes up and finds himself face-to-face with God.

He had once obtained a high levelled medical knowledge, martial arts and a Special Ability which allowed him to see through the other party's thoughts. With this, the Young Master Han was able to roam the society, shopping malls, medicine courts, and government officials.

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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.”