Apocalypse Gachapon - Chapter 1143: Disappearing corpses

Xu Jun finally defeated the BOSS–the Dark Demon King, in this stand-alone, virtual reality game. When he wanted to go out to browse Weibo and express his mood, he suddenly encountered a game BUG and immediately passes over to the game world.

He became the man who finally took down the Great Demon King in this world. Gratifying! The attention of millions of people!

……However, he did not know the development of this world was not the same as the game, the Demon King did not die, rather his soul entered into Xu Jun’s body; this Demon King knows of all the stupid things Xu Jun does everyday…….

- Description from Novelupdates

I was a 28-year-old researcher in Japan, and before I knew it, I have been reincarnated in a fantasy world.

Furthermore, I had a half-spirit father and a spirit mother.

An aunt who is deeply attached to father, cousins who are problem children. Girls who cause awkward situations as in an otome.

Furthermore, in order to gain the affection of a love interest, a cousin even had a word battle with a king!

I am very busy helping humans as well as spirits!

And when I find people who are targeting my father,

「I’ll crush you.」

The cheat protagonist deters those who aim at her family. This is such a story.

When Su Jiu dies on her eighteenth birthday, she transmigrates into a novel about painful love and becomes an adorable four-year-old child.

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.”