I Became A Virtuous Wife and Loving Mother in another Cultivation World - Chapter 42: You Investigated Them, Didn’t You?

How can there be any invincibility?

How can there be any Xeon undefeated?

No one in this world can be eternally number one, anyone can be defeated.

including me.

I’ve been waiting for that one person to show up, beat me, tell me that my way is wrong.

It’s a pity that that person hasn’t come yet.

…

False martial arts: strengthen yourself, break the limits of the human body, and resist bullets with flesh and blood.

Real martial arts: use the magnetic field of life to dominate the magnetic field of the stars, use the small universe of the human body to attract the power of the big universe, travel the starry sky, and smash the planet.

- Description from novelbuddy

When I cleared the final chapter of a game that was a national failure, I became an unnamed side character in it.

A non-standard, unmeasurable, EX rank supporting character.

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.”

In this world, there is the beautiful mutual and telepathy love.