I Dragged My Fiance's Uncle off the Altar - Chapter 153 - : Unworthy to Stand by His Side

When a glorious old civilization was toppled overnight, a strange purple moon rose and thus began the Purple Moon Era.

Damn it! What kind of ecosystem was this? The evolution was messy. Even rabbit bites and plants were not to be messed with. How can one survive all this? Evolve into a Purple Moon Warrior? What did this have to do with the Purple Moon?

What kind of map was this? The Safety Sector? The Floating Domain? The Darkness Port? The Storm Voyage? The True Capital?

The Horror Lullaby List? The resurrection of the Underground Tribe and the prospering Underground City? The Chaos Black Market that suffused the world? The Bloody Road?

More importantly, one could end up in a bloody slaughter when dreaming and enter the Dream Domain? Fine, this damned era!

- Description from Novelupdates

Three years ago, he was framed and falsely imprisoned. His fiancée, trying to save him, was shamed, disfigured and trampled on, suffering humiliation ... Three years later, Qin Jiang, with his exceptional skills in both medicine and martial arts, made a powerful comeback!Xu Muge, from now on, I will be the one to hold up the sky for you!

When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a game where heroes and villains prevailed. I was told I would be granted one wish if I clear the game. The protagonist, who received a growth cheat that allows you to steal his stats by killing an opponent. He kills villains to grow up, but for some reason people mistake him for a “dark hero.” [Story-oriented]

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.”