The Wizard Path From The Simulator - Chapter 315 - 188 “Strange yet Familiar” and “9232” _2

In the middle of the night, looking at the woman in his embrace, he smiled devilishly, “With your discontentment, do you want me to continue?”

Mira was just a young mortal girl living a normal life until a god ruined everything for her.

“F*ck you, GOD! Why do you keep doing this to me!!! What did I do to deserve this?!?”

Trapped in a cycle of reincarnation, Mira continues learning and improving all in hopes of taking down her oppressor.

Follow Mira as she's thrust into a Cultivation World where the impossible is possible and reality can be whatever you want it to be as long as you're strong enough.
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Disclaimer: I don't plan on adding romance early in the novel. I will probably add some later in the novel, but it won't be the main focus. If there is any romance then it will be yuri.

This novel will also primarily focus on females. Of course, there will be males in the story, but for the most part, they won't be important characters.

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Dreyerboys

Xuanqian Continent, where sects stood in great numbers and experts abounded.The youth, Zhou Heng, with a mysterious black Broken Sword in his Dantian, emerged from Origin Stone Town and fought his way to claim a piece of the world in this grand era.To the exceedingly wicked, kill!To those who bullied my friends and family, kill!To those who obstructed my path to enlightenment, kill!On the path to the heavens, I tread with songs, with a sword in hand, I alone am honored under the heavens!

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.”