A VR Travel Story That Makes You Want to Be Humiliated - Chapter 358: City Exploration (2)

On the way to a company workshop, we fell into a world of immortal cultivators while still in the car.

Those with spiritual roots and unique abilities were all called to join cultivation sects, living prosperously.

But I, having neither spiritual roots nor special abilities, lived as an ordinary mortal for 50 years, complying with fate until my death.

That’s what I thought.

Until I regressed.

The fiancée has betrayed, but how could she know that the man she looked down upon was in fact a prodigy with healing and martial prowess!

Meng Xiyue had no intention of entering into the book “Deep Sad Love: The Little Wife Runs with the Ball”, but fortunately, she was just a passerby.

Looking at the love between the male and female protagonists, Meng Xi’s crescent moon was sour and she determined the standard of mate selection: her other half must have a positive outlook, no pits in her head, and calmness in any situation, preferably not a love brain.

Then one day, Meng Xiyue met the villainous female partner in the book…

Edible Guidelines:
1. Small cookies, the full text is about 18w to end
2. Mo De’s feelings Meng Xiyue × brain tonic drama jingle Xia Yu’an
3. 1V1

Content tags: entertainment circle sweet text through books
Search keywords: Protagonist: Meng Xiyue, Xia Yu’an ┃ Supporting role: ┃ Others:

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”