MTL - Full Marks Hidden Marriage - Chapter 2164 Xin Yue Jun Jun does not know [fan outside]

After waking up in the body of the Young Master of the Luo family, he finds he has the knowledge of hundreds of games and Light Novels. However, he finds his Dantian is crippled, so he can’t practice cultivation! Luckily, he has the Upgrade system.

Killing Monsters, doing Quests, and even killing people- it’s just too easy. I don’t have any Martial Arts? I have hundreds of light novels, just let me level up so I can get this Main Character’s Martial Art! The only problem is: Should I follow the “This OP character cultivation” or should I follow “Another OP character cultivation”?! The tragedy!

- Description from Novelupdates

What will an ordinary man do if he finds out he is God in an Otome game? Of course, save the game’s Evil character, Morrigan! Unknowingly spread more chaos! Establish your own kingdom! Establish your own religion! Kill the Goddess of Light!

Takebayashi Ryouma, a 39 years old man with hidden past, found himself in a strange white room. The gods tell him that he has died and that they are sending his soul to a different world, a world where magic exists. After living alone for 3 years, his gamer soul loses its common sense and starts along crazy routes.

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.”