MTL - The Strongest Arms Dealer - Chapter 1058 : I bet on myself

After waking up in the body of the Young Master of the Luo family, he finds he has the knowledge of hundreds of games and Light Novels. However, he finds his Dantian is crippled, so he can’t practice cultivation! Luckily, he has the Upgrade system.

Long Fei, a cross-timer and doujin, is an otaku who traveled to another world. In the original world, he was an otaku fan of Gundam and military science fiction.

He died in an accident and was reincarnated into another world. The Gundam works he had read before his death and the techniques in various military novels could be brought to another world.

How would he use the Gundam that Long Fei created? What waves can be caused in this different world?

You Liangxing would never open the speech function in game.
That was because his voice was…
Particularly! Kittenish!

But there was one day, he queued up with a teammate who had so much to say that they may as well explode. Vexed to the point of no return, he contributed a voice that was capable of splitting heaven and earth, “Don’t BB.”
The other party who was being scolded stilled. In the ensuing silence, he suddenly let out a long, relishing… Moan.
You Liangxing: “…..”

Later —
He realised that the person was a great god,
Much later,
Without him realising,
He became the great god’s royal healer.
…. And also his boyfriend.

- 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.”