Pampered Poisonous Royal Wife - Chapter 1649 - 363: Four Attacks on Duan Ziqing (10,000-Word Update) (Part 4)

After an accidental death, in order to continue to live, Gu Bai had to choose to go through various wonderful books to complete tasks.

Emperor Gabela: Imperial legions are unstoppable on land.

Great Orc Chief: All the warriors of the tribe can count as ten.

Jade Realm Elf King: The forest ranger has never missed a shot.

Chairman of the Horn Bay Alliance: The alliance fleet is the undisputed ruler of the sea.

A mysterious organization: The prophesied era will finally come.

Paul Grayman: I am not targeting anyone. Everyone here is rubbish.

Start the journey of guns and cannons crushing the low-magic plane…

(This is an old-fashioned story about climbing a technological tree in another world to farm for hegemony. The author has limited knowledge and may make some mistakes in technical details. Criticism and corrections are welcome)

- Description from novelbuddy

He was weak, he was depressed, he was a loser.
He wasn't even Lvl 10 in the game when Earth was destroyed in the Quake and the players of Redlands were transmigrated to the fantastic world of Zushkenar.
But he lived, learned, and died again.
Now, he was back on Earth, one year and three months before the Quake.
Deciding to rejoin the game earlier and with greater focus, what changes would he bring with his actions?
What life would he live?

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paypal.me/JInDaoran

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There's a map for the lands of Zushkenar posted on the DeviantArt website:
https://www.deviantart.com/kilrain/art/Hunters-Guide-map-cities-grid-b-877682076

It's not complete, but it'll give an idea of the general geography.

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The background image for the cover is part of a landscape by moinzon taken from pixabay.com

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.”