The Great Thief - Chapter 1963 - Goodbye, Sorrowless

In his previous life, Lin Mu was the top assassin on Earth. He accidentally traversed to the Eternal Immortal Realm, where, over the span of eight hundred years, he cultivated from an ordinary mortal to the realm of an Immortal Emperor.However, as he was undergoing the tribulation to become an Immortal Emperor, his enemies ambushed him and his Divine Soul drifted through the cosmic Chaos for several hundred years. Now he possesses a body which belongs to another man also named Lin Mu, a live-in son-in-law of the Qin Family in River City who was constantly mocked and humiliated.“Rest assured,” Lin Mu mutters. “Since I have taken your body, I will naturally avenge you.”

Born naturally defective but possessed by the spirit of a divine dragon. Inheriting the divine dragon’s will and power, growing scales and magical claws, imperial waters containing the breath of the dragon, travelling through clouds and summoning rain, an invincible physical body. In this world and era, countless men dream of slaying dragons. Li Mu Yang has always lived a hard life.

You read the title, right? If not...

He had been playing an H-Game when all of sudden...his life ended.

When he woke up, he found that he had been sent into the world of the H-Game.

What will he do now that he's in this new world?

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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.”