I Get A Random New Occupation Every Week - Chapter 6

If you had the chance to go back a few years, relive your life, and rewrite your story—armed with a mysterious system designed to help you achieve your dreams—what would you do?This is the tale of Park Adan, a boy who met a tragic and humiliating end, crushed by a falling billboard on his way home. But fate wasn’t done with him yet.Adan wakes up in his bed, three years in the past, with a second chance to change everything. And this time, he’s not alone. With a system to guide him, his journey to rewrite his life begins—filled with challenges, opportunities, and a quest for redemption.Will he succeed in shaping the future he desires, or will the past catch up with him again?

[Fiction from the 1980s] Su Wen read a popular novel about son-in-law in the 1980s. The hero is a tough guy with a sense of security, but at the same time he is a bit dark-bellied and sullen.

It was the style she liked, so with a wave of her hand, she rewarded one million reading coins—and then she became the hero’s scumbag ex-wife.

In the book, the original body, as the head of the family who recruits a family at home, does not want to stand up for the family, but is a love brain. Don’t want to have huge golden thighs, but was instigated by the little white flower heroine, and fell in love with the scumbag from the next village.

After Su Wen came through, she hugged the male lead’s golden thigh tightly, and worked hard to make money and become rich. As a result, the younger sisters were too competitive, crying and shouting to recruit a son-in-law at home like the older sister, and they gave birth to a baby with the surname Su.

So, Su Wen started the rhythm of choosing her son-in-law every day, all of them are handsome and talented. One body is better than the other, and the family background is better than the other. It’s so hard to choose!

Someone who was left out aggressively blocked her behind the door: “Am I handsome? Is my figure good? Is my family strong?”

Su Wen: “…But they are my sister-in-law.”

“My whole body is yours. I will give you the passbook, and I will give you my life.”

The next day, Su Wen woke up and looked at more than twenty passbooks, lost in thought…

I am Ye Qing. Lucky I found a [Monster Factory] application.

This bunch of super strong monsters are individually comparable to over 100 human beings, and they bring all kinds of skills!

Efficiency? With the skill processing speed +300, you still want to compete?

Precision? *cough, cough* Bring me that legendary dial caliper, let’s show them what absolute precision really mean.

Ye Qing: When, us, men want to be successful, we pull out our wallets.

Monsters: Don’t play those malice games with us. The creation of ultimate machinery is our love and life. These impenetrable bodies are our tools of the trade.

A 20 meter tall, overly buffed, savage looking monsters hold on to a ultimate cutting machine and yelled at the sky: “I am not targeting anyone specifically! Rather I am telling you all that, everything, in front of me and my tools are, nothing, but TRASH!”

- 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.”