I Swear I Don't Have A Python In My Pool - Chapter 84 - 84 Set Off! Decisive Battle with the Giant Catfish!

On the server “Altar,” a high-class survival game was officially launched. Survival was the only logic in the human game of alliance, betrayal, and human-natured games of deceit and treachery. After the smoke of gunpowder ends, only the survivors can speak.

As soon as he opened his eyes, the amnesiac An Wujiu saw a person at his side killed. While in confusion, a floating green typeface appeared before him.

Variable Name: An Wujiu
Attributes: Male, 20 years old
Game Rounds: 5
Win Rate: 100/100
Danger Rank: SSS

No wonder they were afraid.

The first time he saw An Wujiu, Shen Ti felt curious. The kindness and fragility in those eyes were not fake, so how could he survive in the Altar? It was until he saw the man had a sudden personality change. He recklessly gambled regardless of the cost, casually estranged people, grew further excited on the verge of death, and even calculated against himself to win. Only then did Shen Ti realize that it was his own cognitive bias.

Fortunately, he wasn’t a normal person either.

- Description from Novelupdates

This novel is also known as The Yun Family's Ninth Child is an Imp!

She was an unprecedented assassin, a trump card deadly agent, but transmigrated through into Ye City’s number one prodigious good-for-nothing young miss.

I am an ugly woman? I will break out from my cocoon into a gorgeous butterfly that will blind your snobbish eyes!

I am useless piece of heap? Lightning in my hands, I will smite you to a well-cooked crisp!

Her greed and lust for money had no end. She is lewd to the core with no bottom in sight, sworn to have love fortunes blossom all around her. However, a certain someone holding a blade in the left hand and a sword in the right hand began cutting those love fortunes one by one!

The person smiled with perked brows, “Little Ninth, it looks like I have to let you become occupied!”

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”

After seeking pleasure in the nightclub and a night of romance, he discovered there’s a seed in his stomach;