MTL - Demon Sect Cultivation: I Can Disable Debuffs - Chapter 134 1 paragraph

In the King’s game, the [King]’s order is absolute and has the power to create rules. As the owner of a special physique, Gu Huai was selected by the system to participate in the game. “Win the game and become the [King], and you can obtain whatever it is you desire.”

- Description from Novelupdates

Five hundred years ago, the world was awakened, bringing dungeons, mythological beasts, new races, and lost continents to the surface. It also brought the opportunity to awaken and become strong, but not everyone had that opportunity.Elliot is one of those young people who yearns to become an Awakened One but has not yet succeeded.Despite that, he is different.His desire for power is so strong that he never becomes discouraged despite being mocked and despised by the world for belonging to the group of those Rejected by the System.He still longs to become an Awakened One.His desire for power is so intense that when the long-awaited day arrives, he shakes the foundations of the world, allowing him to become one of those acclaimed Awakened, receiving an amazing and unique class.Although powerful enemies surround him, his intense desire for power will allow him to look beyond what his eyes can see as he rises above the world and achieves Glory.

The world’s worst offense, is called Love.

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.”