I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy - Chapter 440

Transmigrating to a lawless person and then directly upgrading to a little brat’s stepmother. Xiao Ting said, “Crap, there’s no need to even give birth to a child. God, I love you so much …”

- Description from Novelupdates

Earth Immortals are cultivated from a blessed land.

I put all the warning tags to give myself creative freedom, but the story isn't filled with excessive gore or swearing.This is my first time writing other than for school projects. The gender-bender tag is only for the beginning because I wanted to try writing from a female's perspective and needed an excuse for why my MC reads a little tomboyish. The gender-bender fades into the background over the first few chapters; please don't let the tag keep you from trying out my story.Synopsis:Second chances are rarely earned and even rarer given. Follow a new life in a new world where anything is possible. Our MC wakes up, stuck as a baby, needing to decide how she will live her new life. Let's see what future she can forge when hard work rewards her with status points and skill levels.Author's Note: I'm currently slowly going back and rewriting my earlier chapters, so if you're starting to read this for the first time, try not to be alarmed if the quality suddenly goes down after reading a few chapters. I started writing this story almost three years ago, and I think I've improved as a writer since then. I appreciate your understanding; enjoy.

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.”