Magic is Programming - Chapter 3B2 : Planning

“∞” is the symbol for infinity.What would happen if one possessed infinite skill points?Living life anew, with infinite skill points and any skill instantly at full level, Zhong Lin wants to see who is above the nine heavens.-------------This is the story of an ordinary person traversing into a different world, slaughtering all adversaries with infinite skill points.

Su Xin was a world-class hitman. One day, she died in a disaster and was bound to the Fate Trading System to change other people’s destiny and increase her own life span.

Brothel prostitute: I want to become the first beauty of the Four Countries!

Imprisoned Mermaid: I want to return to the deep sea and become queen!

Adorable Loli: My elder sister is not human, kill her!

Miss Republic of China: Don’t let older brother be extremely infatuated with third aunt!

Su Xin: Your circle is really messy…

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”

That day, my head was struck by an unknown object, and after I woke up, I realized that I’m able to, through titles, understand a person’s truest side.