The Cursed Gamer - Chapter 422: Divine Progression (2)

The entire Yunzhou knew that the Ye Family had a new step-child in the house: Ning Li, a low-born and barely literate. However, when she looked at her 17 years old self in the mirror after coming back to life, she grinned.At 17, her step-siblings had yet destroyed her looks and stolen her glory—she still had everything with her. Since she was given an opportunity to start over, she ought to take revenge on everyone who had wronged her before. It would be interesting.After Ning Li was chased out of the Ye Family, she was cherished by the most popular solo singer in the entertainment industry, protected by the top international racer, courted by the heir to a multimillion corporation, and loved by her billionaire grandfather who wanted her to inherit the family business.Even Second Master Lu said to her, “Hold up you little brat, I think you should come home with me.”Rumor had it that Second Master Lu was handsome and beyond any girl’s reach until that one fateful day, when someone saw a drawing of a cool and proud young boy with bangs covering his eyes fall out from Second Master Lu’s book.The news spread like wildfire overnight, and on the next day, Second Master Lu was questioned. Ning Li coincidentally passed by, and upon considering her relationship with him in her past life, she stepped in and shut down the busybodies.Lu Huaiyu stared at the girl before him as he subtly put away the love letter in his hands and said with a smile, “I shall repay you with my body for saving my life.”A long while later, Ning Li saw herself in that particular drawing and she was silenced. She knew it was all a huge mistake.

The world of Nyil, with its monsters, its knights and its mildly sociopathic gods. Come and see! A soul flees and a soul arrives, blessed by luck. Will she survive? Will she thrive? Will she become a calamity? After all, luck is such a fickle thing. ‍

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.”