The Reader and Protagonist Definitely Have to Be in True Love - Chapter 82.2 - Reader: These shoddy products are no good.

[You can now choose three of the following seven options
1. Go back to five years ago with the present memory
2. Five centimeters taller
3. Seven million deposits
4. Appearance +50 points
5. A company with a market capitalization of 500 million
6. Proficient in a foreign language
7. Teaser live broadcast 10 million virtual coins]

Li Ang became angry after finishing the selection: choose every day, choose, choose, you will give it after the selection!
…
Fuck, it’s really shipped!

- Description from novelbuddy

This novel is also known as Retrograde Gaming

Due to not being able to buy a game helmet, diabolical Li Huailin made a determined effort and made his own game capsule entering into the new online game 《Heart of Glory》. But he didn’t think that he actually got his game character stuck as a bug.

Other people get experience from fighting monsters, he loses experience from fighting monster; Other people get experience and money from doing quests, not only does he lose experience from doing quests, he even loses money.

Right when he thought that he couldn’t play this game anymore, his character died once and his experience suddenly skyrocketed. And thus he was enlightened…

If you don’t seek death then you won’t die, to level up Li Hailin started his life of desperately seeking death.

- Description from Novelupdates

Before the rebirth, Gu Qingyao wanted to marry him but did not dare to marry. After the rebirth, Gu Qingyao, with the space materials in hand, all day planning to marry him with a huge dowry.

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.”