The Beloved and Pampered Girl - Chapter 699 - : Take Action Instead of Arguing

Traveling to an overhead urban world where martial arts and immortal arts coexist, the only thing Lin Shen can rely on is the avatar Golden Finger.

Cultivate in avatar, the main body becomes stronger.

Clone [Pure Yang Body]: Yang attribute skills training speed +300%, Blazing Sun Palm, Melting Soldiers Hand, Qianyang Sword Art… Any Yang attribute skills can be easily mastered, and a thousand miles a day!

Clone [Natural Dao Body]: Practice speed +500%, all martial arts skills can be understood at a glance, mastered, and crushed all geniuses!

Clone [Sword God Wuwo]: The power of swordsmanship skills +200%, the speed of swordsmanship skills training +200%, let you be tyrannical, I will kill you with one sword!

 …

“You never know how many avatars are working hard behind the person chatting with you in front of you!”

“The avatar did it, what does it have to do with my body?”

“What I’m most afraid of is that others will bully the few with the more, anyway, not as many as me!”

- Description from novelbuddy

My end was not majestic, my beginning was not beautiful, but I will make damn sure that I rise once more. No more shall I bend a knee, no more shall I hide, no more shall I cower. No more shall the light guild my path, for only Darkness remains.

***

Killed by the universe's greatest killer, Truck-Kun. My existence was twisted as I gazed up at King-Yama, staring down at me with revulsion, “You sick bastard, you ate people.” He bellowed, glaring at me with disgust.

Snorting, I gathered my courage raising my head high and proud, my voice carrying a hint of pride, “So what, have you ever tried it...Let me ask you, have you ever had sex.”

A bewildered expression hung on his rugged appearance as he absentmindedly nodded. A slight smirk crossed my face as I declared, “then have you ate ass,”

“WHAT!!!” He balled in panic, shivering like a guilty man on trial.

“HAHA, you call me disgusting, but it appears you were sucking ass, now that is truly disgusting. I don't judge, but if you ask me, I will stick to cannibalism.”

“THAT NOT A FAIR COMPARISON, YOU LITTLE SHIT,”

This is a story about a graduate student of ancient Chinese who was repeatedly trampled on the road to employment, and returned to the middle of the Ming Dynasty and entered the body of a young child in a mountain village. There are many disputes in the farmyard With a dull father, a fierce mother, and a group of extremely bad relatives. Fortunately, we have thousands of years of historical accumulation, the Four Books and Five Classics, and the Eight-part Essays, and the majors are also suitable. Who says that it is difficult for a poor family to produce a noble son? The national strength has risen, and the rule of law has been relaxed; the law and discipline are lax, and the official discipline is lazy; there are a few treacherous ministers, and there are also some Japanese pirates; but overall, it can be said that this is a fertile ground for the free growth of scholars and officials. A legend of the rise of a poor family also grew from here

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.”