Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess - Chapter 256 - Don’t quit the grind

I spent my life playing a game.
I hit the wall, stuck in second place for the rest of my life.

Out of the blue, I received a message and was possessed by the game.
As the worthless son of an Underworld Boss!

“Yes, bloodline is also a power, as long as you can use it. My ability is ‘Famiglia’.”

The game addict never disappears. Overwhelming violence, endless wealth, connections in the other world. I, I’ll use anything to stay alive!

The Barren Continent, where martial arts are supreme, and strength is honored above all.The once-in-an-era prodigy, Ye Chen, came forth with the ancient and unparalleled divine technique. He cultivated his martial veins, survived the thunder tribulation, merged with the spirit blood of true beings, and shook the six harmonies and the eight desolations with his martial prowess. He roamed the myriad realms and heavens, fighting across the world with the secret realm of billions of stars that were eternal and undying!An endless trove of treasures, worlds of bizarre wonders, sects, ancient clans, fairies, witches, friendships and enmities, and heated battles—all of it was contained therein.

Leo, a common middle school student, was accidentally invited to a Wechat group full of legendary immortals, such as the Monkey King, ErLang Sheng, the Dragon King of the East. Since that day, his life completely changed. With the mystical items receive from his WeChat group,

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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.”