I’ll Quit Being a God - Chapter 516: Qianxin Jie Returns Again

Have you ever read a story? So stupid and senseless that it makes your blood boil and makes you pity even the villain of the novel. if you haven't that's fine because our protagonist did.“FROM WHERE THE FUCK DID NTR COME FROM?”He threw his console controller on the which did a cartoonish bounce and formed a bump on his forehead.------“Wait! What's this place!?”The moment he woke he found himself in a strange location never been visited by him ever before.------“No!! No!! No!! How the hell did I end in the body of this cucked villain! Why did I end up in this body!!”He lamented when looked at his face in the mirror that got beaten blue by the protagonist of the game.------“Don't worry, Riech. I will fulfill your and fucking kill the bastard and fuck his mother and avenge you!”He clenched his fist and gritted his teeth in anger vowing to take revenge.

It’s a story about a man who got transported into a novel and possessed a slum boy. He met a noble girl and served her as a butler for 13 Years. Now the girl has already fallen from her noble life and lives in an abandoned mansion with paralyzed legs. Why did she become like that? Of course because she is the villainess in the novel.

Have you ever wondered what a character in a novel or in a game should be?

Do they eat? Sleep? Do they have their own life when you are not reading or playing?

They do not.

When you are not doing anything, we stay still.

To be fair, think about your own life. Is it different from a game without a system? You can not see behind your back, similar to how a character has to render it in a game.

But at least, you have your own life.

While I have to watch the protagonist of the novel find his way into the pants of the female leads.

This is my destiny.

I'm not jealous. Not at all.

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.