City of Witches - Chapter 21: Border Town (6)

“Ding! Soulbinding has been successfully completed; you will now head to the Heaven Awaken World.” After hearing this, Zhao Fu’s vision darkened as he fell to the ground.

With bleak prospects in the real world, Zhao Fu’s life is turned around when countless crystals fell from the sky one night, which people could use to enter an alternate, game-like world. After obtaining an ancient Chinese empire’s legacy, Zhao Fu uses his intellect and resourcefulness to develop his own empire from a tiny village. However, with enemies both in the real world and in the Heaven Awaken World, he must make brilliant decisions and use creative schemes to survive.

- Description from Novelupdates

Dual Cultivation is an art. The more you focus on doing the art, the worse it becomes. Only when doing it becomes part of the art itself, does one truly experience it to its fullest.

Mu Wanwan transmigrated into a novel.

And became a cannon fodder side character used to counteract the disabled tyrant’s ill fortune.

The tyrant is a huge villain. He challenged the leader of the seven tribes alone and had been beaten into a vegetative state.

The original character lived in the tyrant’s territory. Her parents, who were greedy for power, randomly made came up with compatible bazi* and sent their daughter into the tyrant’s manor, turning her into a wife to ward off ill luck.

Also sent off together with her was a little white flower maidservant, who was the heroine of the story.

The original character and the heroine agreed to escape together—but the original character was stabbed to death that very night.

And just as they were about to implement their escape plan, she transmigrated over

Mu Wanwan: “…”

What a horrible script!!

In order to live, she had to do her best to take care of the disabled, comatose dragon. Three years later, she actually turned the tragic story into a sickeningly sweet love story.

Note: *bazi: A Chinese astrological concept that a person’s destiny or fate can be divined by the two sexagenary cycle characters assigned to their birth year, month, day, and hour.

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.”