MTL - Female Partner Became Popular in a Love Show - Chapter 42 (1)

Ten years ago, John and his parents were transported into a game world.This young man, full of ambition to conquer the world, unfortunately awakened the weakest class—Furniture Maker.But what troubled John most wasn’t his class.Like most transmigrators, he had a system.The only problem was—This system kept granting him strange and absurd skills.[Ding! Congratulations, Host! You’ve acquired a concept-level skill: Absolute Diarrhea Technique. Your basic attacks will cause opponents to suffer explosive diarrhea until complete exhaustion. Any creature without an anus is unworthy of being your enemy!][Ding! Congratulations, Host! You’ve acquired a concept-level skill: Mummification Wrapping Technique. Bandages crafted by you can heal all things!][Ding! Congratulations, Host! You’ve acquired a concept-level skill: You may steal and copy the abilities of anyone named John!][Ding! Congratulations, Host! You’ve acquired a bonus concept-level skill: You may forcibly rename anyone to John!]…Years later, in the Divine Realm, a lone figure stood tall above the heavens.As the sacred hymns echoed, he raised a finger—And all the gods clenched their anuses in fear.

Finally caught up with the trend of crossing. Wait, everyone else has a golden finger when they cross, how can I become a little beggar after crossing!

Fortunately, the memory is still there, watching how I transformed from a little beggar to a top rich man!

- Description from novelbuddy

After accidentally falling, she actually finds herself bound to a Second Female Lead Counter Attacking System!

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.”