Transmigration: The Fate of the Villainess - Chapter 146 - 146 Do you mean me or Wangye? Part I

In this world, laws are nothing but chains for the weak.The rich buy innocence. The powerful twist the truth.Justice? It was sold long ago to businessmen and politicians.He was no one. Shy, awkward, powerless. The kind of man people ignored.Until one day… a god descended.The forgotten God of Justice chose him as vessel.Chains of light tore through the darkness, dragging the guilty to their knees.And then, in his mind, glowing words appeared—[Justice Avatar System Activated][Skill Unlocked: Chain of Justice — Binding]Effect: No corrupt soul may escape once bound.From that day on, criminals trembled.The rich cried out. The politicians tried to resist.But when the chains fell, even their power meant nothing.The world called him a monster.The people whispered another name—“The Underworld Judge.”But he only said one thing:“I am the law. I am the verdict. I am justice.”

Ye Xuan was transmigrated to the Qingyun Sect and became the youngest elder. At the same time, he had also received the 10000x Disciple Cashback System.

From a young maid to a previous noble lady and the demonic empress, he accepted all of them as his disciples.

No matter what he gifted and taught his disciples, he would receive the same thing back in 10000 folds.

“Ding! You have given your disciple a low-grade Nirvana Pill. You have been rewarded with the Heaven Path Pill.”

“Ding! You have given your disciple the Sky Blazing Sword. You have been rewarded with the ancient divine sword, God Slayer.”

“Ding! Your disciple’s cultivation has increased by a year. You have been rewarded with 10000 years worth of cultivation.”

Ye Xuan continued to accept more disciples until one day, one of his disciples, the empress, exposed his identity.

It was then that the world learned of a person who was the strongest.

The horror game anchor Xiao Tangqiu crossed into a horror game.

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.”