My Martial Spirit is Nanobot - Chapter 298 Sun Fruits

[Simulation] + [Isekai] + [Goblin] + [Harem]After a long sleep, I awakened in a new life—as a goblin. Weak and insignificant, I found myself reborn as the lowest creature in a world filled with hostility and danger. But from the shadows of this cruel world, a silent rise begins...

In the age of the Great Liang Dynasty, the lives of the people were made convenient with steam-powered machines that run on a fuel named Violetstream Gold. Chang Geng, who lived in a small countryside village, shared a distant relationship with his mother while his stepfather was away most of the year round, and the only people he was close to were two little kids, the village teacher, and his yi fu – adoptive father. But his life was flipped upside down one day following the barbaric Man tribes’ invasion, and it turned out that his entire identity had been an illusion – not only was Chang Geng himself not the country boy he thought he was, but also his mother, his teacher, and even his beloved yi fu…

When opened his eyes, Lin Tian realized that he was reincarnated into the modern cultivation world.

Seeing this person's memory, his expression became gloomy because his identity is a young master from a rich family.

Knowing this, some people might be happy, but not for him.

He had read many modern cultivation world theme novels.

Doesn't the young master like him is a stepping stone for the protagonist, and had a tragic ending?

Just when he was really desperate, suddenly the system came.

[Ding, congratulations to the host for binding the destiny villain system]

[Beginner's prize has been distributed]

[Congratulations to the host for obtaining a martial emperor level cultivation base]

Cool, just slumped, but now invincible?

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First of all, this novel doesn't have any elements of a brainless Harem, our MC will not be like other MC who every time he goes somewhere, he will bring another woman.

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.”