Daoism Revival System: Start with fighting against Debunker Streamer - Chapter 176 - 175: Dust Concealment: What the Hell, This Is Pure Bad Luck—A Total Loss!

“It’s true… So why does no one believe me?”Sometimes, I play small pranks, but they’re really just small ones.I’m not the mastermind at all.

Xiao YuAn transmigrated into a novel as the homosexual young Emperor imprisoning the Male Lead of a Stallion Novel.

This is indeed miserable, and sad.

Because of this, Xiao YuAn began to work hard to survive.

But!

“To those cannon fodders, even if you want to treat the Male Lead bad, can you stop sending him to my bed?” Xiao YuAn thinks that there’s nothing wrong in pampering the Male Lead, but that’s just because he wants to bathe in the Protagonist halo!

Xiao YuAn: “Don’t abuse the Male Lead ever again!!! You guys aren’t afraid of death, but I want to live!!!”

A story that starts out with the Shou taking care of the Gong, and then, the Gong takes care of the Shou.

He is a legendary business powerhouse, a King with a business empire. She is just an ordinary female student. A deal, – a paper marriage, a marriage for four years. Four years later, she turned away fearlessly. She thought that their path would never cross again, but he took her in his stride and refused to let go of everything about her, even interfering with her getting close to other men!

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.”