The Sickly Emperor Is Only Immune to Me - Chapter 313 - 310: Weakness

This is the story of a crazy lich who possesses an internal game system and brings catastrophe to the entire world.

Forcefully brought over from the modern world to an alternate world, Wang Chong felt detached and lived his life aimlessly.

However, when calamity struck and he saw his family and everything he cared for being torn apart, he felt regret.

Thus, he stood up and eventually became the Grand Marshal of the Central Plains, leading an army against those who seek to destroy all he cherished.

Yet, despite all his efforts, it was already too late to reverse destiny.

But before his death, a shooting star, the same one which brought him to this world, appeared before him, and he was given another chance to undo his regrets.

Jiang Xunyi had transmigrated into a book many years ago, and always tirelessly maintained the requisite accomplishments for a villain.

After finally completing the ultra-difficult task to allow the male protagonist to kill him, an OOC warning had appeared out of the blue——

Error in the actor’s lines, the character role has collapsed, the assigned task has not yet been completed, opening the Rebirth System!

So, he gloriously became… a second idiot son about to be sent to his death.

Lazily idling away the days after changing his identity, he noticed a world-changing difference.

His best friend, the male protagonist, Yun Xie was actually secretly in love with him? Are you kidding me?!

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”