MTL - Comprehensive Manga: a Journey Through the Supreme Being - Chapter 108

Zhangsun Zijun and Yi Xichen are the protagonists of the novel “Record of Nine Thousand Vicissitudes.” One is solid and reserved; the other is free-spirited and uninhibited. As fellow disciples under the same master who grew up together, the two have a deep friendship that was strengthened by their numerous life and death adventures together.

However, in a popular yaoi fanfiction, the personalities of these two characters is completely OOC. Zhangsun Zijun turned into an insanely jealous, insatiable s*x addict madly in love with his wife Yi Xichen. Yi Xichen turned into a sweet, delicate little angel. Their daily life was full of kinky bedroom activities…

Suddenly, the Zhangsun Zijun character from the fanfiction was transported into the world of the original novel.

- Description from Novelupdates

His friend and his wife betrayed him. The only thing left to him was his massive debt and his precious daughter. He was without hope as he lived at the bottom. However, a last chance had come to Sungyoon. He was a ‘man without a heartbeat’, and he will explore the Moon’s Labyrinth. He’ll explore the parts of the dungeon yet to be seen!

[Warning: The title might be named this way, but we’re actually NOT on hiatus.]I’m a third-rate writer, Yu Il-Shin.So don’t think that I’m actually a god; it’s just a name.One day, I experienced the much-anticipated awakening, but my newfound skill was… kinda weird?…In the small world connected through my mobile phone where the little, weak ants were getting killed regarded me as their god?

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.”