Cultivating by picking up attributes, I accumulate my strength! - Chapter 198 - 130: You hold a sword for a woman, don’t you feel ashamed?_3

“Hey, wait! I'm not a god, I'm just a guy who loves trash!”Rhys loves trash. Trashy anime, trashy novels, trashy games, he can't get enough. Which was all well and good until one day, his passion for trash gets him mistaken as an actual trash god. Whisked away into another world, Rhys wakes up in a trash heap as a trash talent with trash skills and no chance of progression. Given his trashy start, it seems there's no hope for him.Or at least, there wouldn't be for a lesser man. But Rhys loves trash.There's only one path before him. Embrace the trash! Empower the trash! Dig the diamonds out from the trash! Polish the trash until it shines brighter than gold! If there's one thing Rhys is passionate about, it's trash. And even in another world, he isn't going to stop until he proves that trash shouldn't be overlooked!What to expect: Trash charactersTrash skillsTrash storyNumber go upCultivation-style systemFast-paced progression

Her rebirth gave her a second chance at life. She was back with a vengeance and wanted to make those that had harmed her pay. But to those that helped her, she wanted to repay them. Her evil stepmother? She would slowly pull out her claws, one by one. Her evil stepsister? She would crush her pride. She thought that by getting her revenge for her past life, she would be happy in this life. However, she never would have thought that danger would chance upon her time and time again. The hatred from her clan and whether their bloodline would continue to exist, lay solely on her shoulders. Luckily, on this thorny path, someone had always been protecting her. “Third Prince, have you ever regretted being with me?” That person laughed lightly and peered at her with a loving yet weary look, “As long as I am together with you, I have no regrets.”

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.”

We’ve come to a world where the roles of men and women have been reversed. So, of course, women will rush to us. “You don’t have to bring water.” “Oh, okay…” …I guess I’ll just have to live the way I always have.