Infinite Mana In The Apocalypse - Chapter 2829 The Existential Dungeon Apocalypse! I

I was thrown into a novel that hasn’t even been completed yet (and turned into a girl…), guided by the omnipresent voice of the unreasonable, amateur Author as he writes the web novel. I have no idea what’s going on, so I have to stick close to the main character to make sure I don’t hit a bad end…Why are you treating only me like this!I’m not suspicious, believe me.I’m a harmless person.“A villain? Not at all.”

Lu Xiao had followed his master for eighteen years, excelling in both medicine and martial arts.After five years of military service, he returned to the city to search for his origins.Faced with flashes of knives and shadows of swords, he was decisive in killing, dominating everyone.When it came to the matters of the heart, he said, “Still… the Young Miss is the best.”

Good news: You’ve transmigrated as a born protagonist , your confidants have exceptional talents, boasting abilities like Heart Voice, Simulator, Rebirth... and many other top-tier skills. What you only need to do is to wait for one of them to grow up, then you will be invincible to ascend. Bad news: They’re all yandere !!! Under the gaze of yandere, Xu Yuan shivered in fear. It was not until he was about to be attacked with a firewood cleaver. “If that’s the case, then I’m dropping the act—I am none other than the Great Love Immortal Venerable!”

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.”