Dawn of the Void - Chapter 54: Fuck you, Jobu

There once was a very popular question on the internet:

If one morning, you woke up and realized that your gender had changed, what would be your first reaction?

And someone on the internet had famously responded:

First, give your bros a good time!

Su Jian remembered that when he saw this reply, he had slapped the table to express his admiration. What a good bro! Such loyalty!

But now that he actually encountered this strange situation himself, he could only feel an extremely ball-breaking alarm, shocked grief, and frightened anger. **** your mom! Ah, ****! **** it!

Oh, a correction. The above is grammatically incorrect. After all, poor Classmate Su Jian doesn’t have balls anymore.

Because her appearance was not breathtaking, the Emperor breaks off their engagement and bestows her instead to the bloodthirsty, ruthless, and cold-blooded Second Prince (Wang Ye).

On her wedding night comes endless humiliation, the genuine Princess Consort becoming a deserted women. A foolish woman before rebirth, she no longer expects his love. In this world, she must possess enough talent to awe those around her, carrying herself with composure and articulating with beautiful diction, override above the nine night.

- Description from Novelupdates

“He who bears the light of heaven and the rage of hell shall decide the fate of gods and beasts alike.”When the world shattered and stars fell from the heavens in blinding storms, a child was born—cursed with the power to either end the eternal war or bridge the gap between heaven and hell.Now, hunted by gods and worshiped by shadows, he must choose which side of his soul will burn brighter - light of heaven or fury of hell.

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.”