Reborn in the 70s: Pampered by Regiment Commander - Chapter 482 - 332: The Excellent Truth

Asher, after trillions of years of cultivation from an ordinary human in a small world, he managed to transcend universes with countless galaxies, then transcended the Great Universe with countless universes and then reached the peak in the Infinite Void, becoming one of the most feared experts.How was his life as a peak cultivator often the end of a story?Follow his journey as he explores the Infinite Void and helps countless geniuses in the Great Universes.***(Everything written in this novel is fiction!)

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️THIS NOVEL PARTICIPATED IN WSA 2025!---Nero Vaelheim. A name etched in history as that of a fleeting antagonist, a mere stepping stone for the heroes.But what if the pawn refused to be sacrificed?When a devoted reader is reborn in the body of this doomed villain, he has only one goal: to break the script, rewrite his fate… and bend this world to his own rules.After all, why settle for being an obstacle when you can become the ultimate threat?

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.”

Char lived alone in the closed beta test of “Fantasy World” for thousands of years. He had already experienced 177 data wipes. In this span of time, he had already successfully charmed all of the NPC beauties, challenged all of the bosses single-handedly, gathered all of the divine weapons and used hundreds of methods to complete the online game as though it was a replayable console game. Just as he was losing the ability to differentiate whether he was a player or an NPC, the public beta started for “Fantasy World”. As such, a player who was even more terrifying than a boss was born.