MTL - Legend of Swordsman - Chapter 97 exchange

“There is no god, only the echo of our fears, bound together in a symphony of false hope, woven to make this endless cycle of pain bearable... But I refuse to be just another note in their song. I will not be silenced to protect the gate you so desperately uphold. I don’t care for the blind masses; they are but shadows, moving without purpose. If I cannot run, I will walk. If I cannot walk, I will crawl. If I cannot crawl, I will roll. And if all that remains of me is a severed head, then I will still glare at you with the scorn of the relentless.”...In a world where Hunters fight to keep humanity safe from monstrous invasions, Timothy Walter is nothing more than an E-rank weakling, expendable, powerless, and barely surviving.That changes when a forgotten dungeon forces him into a deadly trial, awakening ancient rulers from across races.Bound to the weakest among them, he inherits a power unlike any other: “King Player.”Now, with a system that defies all logic, Timothy must carve his path, facing enemies both human and monstrous, as he ascends from the lowest depths to claim a throne none believed he could reach.

The world’s largest VRMMO, Conviction, was almost like a second world for humanity. It had integrated itself into the real world’s economy, with both corporations and individuals seeking their fortunes through the game.

In this game, Nie Yan prided himself in his Level 180 Thief. He could barely be considered among the top experts in the game. Though, that was the only thing he could take pride in. He was penniless and unable to advance in life; a situation he was forced into by the enemy of his father. If it weren’t for the little money he made by selling off items in Conviction, he would’ve barely been able to eat. In the end, he chose to settle his matters once and for all. He assassinated his father’s enemy. He lay dying shortly after being shot in the pursuit.

However, that wasn’t the end of his story. Instead, he awoke moments later to find that he had reincarnated into his past self. Armed with his experience and knowledge of future events, he sets out to live his life anew.

# FATETang Li, a loner learned in the mystic arts, transmigrated into a book, becoming an overbearing CEO's wife who only ever thinks of running away and trying to kill him everyday, even cohaiting with a gigolo and ended up destroyed by the CEO.Tang Li was speechless, thinking to herself that the Host must be crazy to want a gigolo instead of a CEO who has money, looks, and size!Eventually, everyone noticed in surprise that she gave up on the gigolo and started competing for the family inheritance. Not only had she accepted one impressive disciple after another, she kept hovering over her husband as well."Darling, I think you're having indigestion, I made you warm soup.""Hold me, darling. I'm afraid of the thunder~"***Unable to hold it any longer, the overbearing CEO undid his belt while saying dangerously, "Tang Li, you made me fall for you, and I'll have you know how deep is my love right now!"Tang Li (I just wanted a husband): "..."Listen here, darling...

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.”