Gathering Wives with a System - Chapter 2: Selling Myself Off

Before her rebirth, Song Ran lived a lone and miserable life. Her innocence and naiveness cost her fortune. Her family assets was wasted by the stepmother, and her man stolen by her very best friend. After she was reborn, having the scales fallen from her eyes, Song Ran learned from her mistakes. The first thing she needed to do was ride on the coattail of her man with a promissing future, Mr. Gu.

Gu Mingxi and Pang Qian were next-door neighbors, classmates, and deskmates. From year-to-year, even when the class seating was rearranged, they would still be deskmates. They grew up together like a pair of brother and sisters despite having different parents; if it was someone else, then their parents would probably have already arranged their wedding. However, Gu Mingxi was different.

Starting over once more, he has entered this “living game” again in order to control his own fate.

This time, he will not be controlled by others.

Previously the Level 200 Sword King, he will rise to a higher peak in this life.

Methods to earn money! Dungeon conquering strategies! Legendary Quests! Equipment drop locations! Undiscovered battle techniques!

Even the secrets Beta Testers were unknowledgeable of, he knows of them all.

Massive wars, life advancement, entering Godhood, sword reaching to the peak; a legend of a man becoming a Sword God has begun.

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.”