So What If It's an RPG World - Volume 10 - Chapter 45: Pitiful Abyss

Meet Gu Yu—a college dropout and a talented incense maker, and at the same time, the rather stoic protagonist of this story. Despite his somewhat introverted manner, he has a tendency to make sarcastic remarks in his thoughts. One day, after saving a squirrel, a windfall (metaphorically and literally) dropped into his lap. Stumbling into the cultivation world with little help, he was not turned into Superman overnight (as he would like). Apparently, becoming a cultivator would not make your life easier, at least in the beginning.

Somewhere along the road, he ran into Jiang Xiaozhai, a young woman who’s got the brains, the beauty, and maybe one or two secrets of her own. As it turned out, the two made a perfect team—Mulder-and-Scully style. Motivated by many unanswered questions, they had been running up and down the country, getting into all kinds of trouble, and learning more of the modern cultivation world, which is by no means the same as in the ages long past…

- Description from Novelupdates

Doomsday Online has descended, reducing the entire Earth to a ruined playground. It is occupied by countless terrifying monsters.

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.”

When I woke up, my father was a nouveau riche whom everyone despised, and I had five great brothers: a black actor in the entertainment industry, a useless lawyer in the field of law, a sickly quack in the medical field, a plagiarizing dog in the design industry, and a school bully.