Black Corporation: Joseon - Chapter 108

After an accidental electrocution, Zhang Yi realized he could hide his body and become an invisible man. That incident marked a new chapter in his life. The magnificent president of the company, the hot policewoman, and the mischievous daughter of a rich man.“Apologies. I'm a righteous man. I've never abused my power of turning invisible to creep on beautiful girls, because I'd only stand boldly before them to look at them! You can't see me. You can't see me. You can't see me…”

# GAMEALTERNATEWORLD # RELAXING # PRIEST

In that year, the entire world mutated. The game descended into reality while demonic catastrophes rampaged.

For the sake of survival, everyone had to pick up a job class and level up their skills frantically. They worked hard to be more powerful.

Lin Ye acquired the special talent of Reversing.

He could reverse and strengthen any effect that was targeted at the host. For instance, he could turn damage into healing and buffing into debuffing.

As such, he changed his job class and became a priest.

He challenged an opponent, “Come at me! Attack me with any of your forbidden curses or divine techniques. I will admit defeat even if I lose a bit of blood.”

He then said, “So, your attack has no effect on me? It’s my turn to attack now. Healing Spell!”

[Notification: you attacked your opponent with a healing spell and caused 100 million points of critical damage. The other party has been afflicted with the negative status effects of anti-treatment, poison, burn, silence and fatigue.]

Lin Ye’s opponent was befuddled.

As a true over-bearing president scum gong, when Xie He for the Nth time rejected his admirer, he heard a sentence in his head: “Congratulations on achieving the “rejects 100 hosts” accomplishment; as an award you will soon bind to the “Scum Gong and Cheap Shou” system, entering other worlds to complete capture missions.

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.”