Almighty Your Persona Has Collapsed - Chapter 608 - : Who’s so bold as to dare provoke her

A magical ring and a mighty spirit inside the ring, coupled with a genius who lost his cultivation and got named worthless trash. That’s Xiao Yan, the poor genius. You think Xiao Yan got it bad? Well, you clearly have not met Jing Yan.

Jing Yan was once the shining star of the whole East City. However, his cultivation dropped because of the Universal Ring that was left to him by his dead grandfather. Without anything but the Universal Ring, he will once more rise towards the top and beyond!

He is Jing Yan, The Universal Sword God.

- Description from Novelupdates

Humanity was on the brink of destruction. Muyoung, an assassin from the Forest of Death, fell to his knees. There were corpses all around him. For years, he had worked for the Forest of Death and had finally been able to eradicate them. Now, he, himself, was about to die. He closed his eyes as he felt his heart stop beating.

Never touched a girl for five years, living in isolation, and having no skills or idea to talk to a girl.

Tim never thought he would reincarnate in the game he was working on. Now, he had to go through a life that almost seemed impossible for him.

With the Lust System that he created, Tim was forced into a Murim World where strength was everything. And, the only way he could level up was by getting a new girl by his side.

The skills that he could only buy from real currency can only be accessed through quests now.

Can he survive in this world? Can he live with this new life where he has to touch a woman every day of his life? Can he reach the top of the world with his harem?

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.”