My Aloof Husband Can't Stop His Devoted Affection - Chapter 5 - 00: A Touch of Joy

The world has turned into a hell, a place where the strong thrive!

Regardless on how developed a society becomes, assassins and prostitutes will never cease to exist. There’s no need to think of the former as anything mysterious, and there’s no need to look down on the latter. They are simply doing their jobs.

When Tang En crossed over planes, he was forced into this murderous and hopeless profession.

“You have great talent for assassination.”

Tang En: “Huh, I have this kind of talent?”

“That’s right, your looks are exceedingly plain, this is very useful to assassins.”

“……” Tang En, “But I haven’t even managed to kill a chicken.”

“Irrelevant, assassins don’t need to kill chickens, only people.”

“……”

The story is about a plain college graduate crossing over worlds after dying in an awkward situation. Inheriting the game-like Assassin System and a badass butler from the transition, he now has to adapt to survive in this dangerous, new world. Set in a Western Fantasy Universe.

- Description from Novelupdates

Lin Qi is an ordinary young man who suddenly arrives in a martial arts world and finds that he owns nothing but an abandoned Martial Arts Hall, which has been desolate for an untold number of years, and a Martial Arts Transmission System capable of summoning players.Using players as chess pieces, Lin Qi's life of puppeteer begins behind the scenes.“100% real virtual game, do you want to play?”“Battle of the Myriad Races, experience the most realistic epic battlefield, do you want to play?”“Get stronger in the game, and you will become stronger in reality too, just ask if you want to play?”

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.”