Vermillion - Chapter 24.3: Yulia

Senior high school student Dugu Hong was logical autistic and had a very high IQ. Despite his impressive IQ, he was never taken seriously by his teachers or schoolmates. While playing a recently released eastern Wuxia online game called Jiang Hu, three vicious classmates trapped Dugu into a mountain cave in the game with no hope of escape unless he deleted his account and re-register it. Not succumbing to their demands, Dugu decided to stay in the cave and explore the game system, which benefited him greatly. His persistence to obtain massive internal strength aided him in finding a superior way to improve himself, and thus opened the function of inner observation of the main and collateral channels. Meanwhile, in the real world, he discovered he had supernatural powers when he tried to save the girl he secretly loved who had caught the eye of a gangster on the suburban railway.

When he did not know her true identity, he treated her very badly, he disliked her too much, she was not elegant enough, she was in the way...Only later did he realize that the woman was his legal wife! He repented, tried to recover her feelings, but she was determined to divorce him.

Struggling until the age of thirty-eight without being able to afford a house. Facing the need to pay a dowry of three hundred thousand in order to get married. Living frugally for most of his life, working to the point of his liver breaking.

But, where was his money? Who in the world earned all the money away?

Jiang Qin, filled with countless resentments, is reborn at the age of eighteen. The only thought upon opening his eyes was to start a business and make money.

He snatched back the love letter he had given, flipped it over, and under the shocked gaze of the school belle, wrote three lines:

I shall never work a job again!

I just want financial freedom, never to be a s*ave!

As for love? Not even dogs would bother with that!

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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.”