Once, I wanted to be a good person - Chapter 264 - 47. Misunderstanding Bai Zhi (Vote for monthly tickets!)_3

Shortly after Lu Xun creates an alternate account in ‘Heavenly Earth,’ he transmigrates into this Xianxia style game and becomes a glorious NPC.

He discovers that he has transmigrated to a time three years into the past. He originally plans to accumulate his strength and bide his time while idiotic players appeared in copious numbers.

Planning to issue quests to them so that they would be of use to him, he never expects that he would encounter difficulties from the get-go.

Now, the very first problem he has to face is… a ‘female devil’ who can’t be easily described in a few words…

“There’s something wrong with this account!” Lu Xun exclaims.

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When a terminally ill young man awakens in the world of his favorite childhood game, he realizes he isn’t the protagonist, the destined hero, or even a major side character. Instead, he has become an extra—a disowned noble barely clinging to relevance in a world where strength determines everything. Worse, his fate in the game was to die an early, meaningless death.Armed with only his knowledge of the game’s storyline and a common system that tracks his stats and skills, he is determined to survive. But mere survival isn’t enough. He remembers a hidden easter egg from a long-forgotten anime collaboration: the Mangekyō Sharingan—a power limited by game mechanics but unrestricted in reality.With Kamui as his trump card, he walks the fine line between fate and freedom, seizing power from the shadows while avoiding suspicion. As the protagonist and his allies battle against demons and unravel the game’s grand destiny, he secretly builds his own strength—manipulating events, mastering forgotten arts, and even forging ties with villainous factions.Will he remain a footnote in history, or will he carve his own legend in a world that was never meant to be his?

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.

“Welcome to the Punishment Zone, scums.”

“Please tear the masks of pseudo-gods into pieces here.”

“However, you must remember—the time for slaughter takes place only after sunset.”

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