Obtaining 10x rewards! Reincarnated into a novel as a side-character! - Chapter 268: Vasoth in despair!

Life in a noble house isn’t all luxury.Luan Meskevela never expected to wake up as the third son of a powerful duke. But when he’s transported into the world of Sigil Online, he finds himself gifted with two rare and powerful Sigils—abilities that make him a force to be reckoned with.Now, Luan's got more than wealth on his mind. He’ll charm a priestess, exploit a merchant guild, and maybe even befriend a spirit or two—if it gets him a better vintage of wine. With a mix of charm, wealth, and newfound power, he courts beautiful women, explores the world around him, and builds connections that could shape his future. Yet, beneath the surface, political intrigue and family rivalries threaten to disrupt his carefree life.In this new world, Luan plays for the thrill, not just for power. But as he enjoys the perks of his life, he soon realizes that every decision has consequences, and the people around him may not always be what they seem.

Mission: Transmigrate world by world into a scoundrel’s body; clean up the original’s life.

Wei Mingyan is a liar, through and through. But he doesn’t see himself as such. His motto? “If one deceives others for a lifetime, then all lies would become the truth.”

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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.”

I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me.And then my PC exploded.I died.Irony, thou art a cruel mistress.But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns.“This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me.“Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared.I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes.Oh, this was going to be fun.