MTL - Yu-Gi-Oh!: Underworld Boss, Cancerous Creator God - Chapter 342

In The Swordsman, I am Yue Buqun! In Legend of the Condor Heroes, I am Ouyang Feng! In Tianlong Babu, I am Ding Chunqiu! …In Datang Shuanglong, I am Shi Zhixuan! …I am me, a big villain boss who walks in the heavens!

 Swordsman, The Legend of the Condor Heroes, The Eight Parts of the Dragon, Little Li Feidao, The Legend of Double Dragons of the Tang Dynasty, Fengyun, Zhuxian, Yangshen, Shading the Sky, Perfect World, Eternal Life…

- Description from novelbuddy

From the outside, Nana’s life seemed simple. She had everything she had ever wanted: a cute but rascally pair of twin brothers, a best friend, and her own restaurant. Nana couldn’t ask for anything more; she was happy and content in her life.

As Orson read the novel written by the girlfriend who had left him, he gently remarked on how terrible the story was. But then, noticing a foul smell coming from the kitchen, he went to investigate. He realized there was some kind of gas leak. Already furious about being dumped, Orson became even angrier at the state of his kitchen, and in his rage, he hit the light switch with a powerful punch. Naturally, the explosion that followed killed him instantly, and Orson passed into the afterlife.After spending some time in limbo, he found himself reincarnated in an unfamiliar world. However, he quickly realized he had been reborn inside the cliché-filled novel written by his ex-girlfriend. As if that wasn’t enough, he had ended up in the body of Neonidas, a useless duke who was also the fiancé of the story's villainess.____There may be a bit too much swearing and slang in the first chapters, but it gets less afterwards.There will be no yuri, bl or ntr in Neonidas(MC) harem

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.”