Only I Level Up - Chapter 210

“You really want me to save people?”

Looking at the shivering victim in front of him,

Look at the [Owl’s Head Wire], [The Murderer’s Gift], [Universal Anesthetic], [Invisible Potion] in the item column…

Shiraishi touched the hideous mask on his face and fell into deep thought.

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“The Salary Thief in the Distillery”

“What does the vest do to me have anything to do with it?”

“There are limits to being a human being, I choose to be a cat…”

The magic version of Conan

- Description from novelbuddy

As soon as she transmigrated, Ding Yao became a mute that was kicked out by her stepmother! It’s okay, don’t panic. She had a fiance who was willing to pick her up. However, her fiance’s family had very bad luck. Today, someone got injured. Tomorrow, the chickens were dead. The day after, there was no more rice to eat…Ding Yao: “Have I been possessed by an unlucky god?” Seeing that her younger siblings were about to starve, Ding Yao’s naive and innocent fiance comforted her.

“It’ll be fine, Yaoyao. I’ll go hunting in the mountains tomorrow. I won’t let you starve.” Ding Yao glanced at his broken leg and knew that the credibility of his statement was low. If one relied on the mountains, the mountains would fall. If one relied on others, others would fall. Ding Yao rolled up her sleeves. Well then, let’s make fortune with our own hands! Thinking of the 21st century which she transmigrated from, she has superb medical skills. It was not a problem to treat illness and injuries.

Not to mention, she had a system which allowed her to have her own medicine field. It wasn’t a problem to get rich! Under Ding Yao’s leadership, her fiance’s family leaped from being the poorest family in the village to the richest in the country in only three years. The days got better and better, but those who looked for trouble also increased…One night, a familiar assassin dressed in black appeared. Ding Yao was in a daze and thought, ‘Do I deal with this with silver needles? Or poison needles?’ At this moment, her weak fiance stepped forward and pulled her into his arms to protect her. “Don’t be afraid, my darling! No one will hurt you while I’m here.” Ding Yao was confused. Then, she was shocked when her weak fiance kicked the black-clothed assassin. This man had pretended to be weak in order to gain the upper hand!

After the hard struggle of a post-80s Shen Feiyang, he met with a tragic car accident in his fifties. When he again opened his eyes, he did not see the white walls of a hospital, nor had he arrived at the netherworld. Instead, he had transmigrated into the body of the post-50s young girl, Shen Yunfang.He had transmigrated into an era where people could not get enough to eat or sufficient clothes to wear.Humph, such hardships could not defeat a wise woman who had battled through society for half her life. Watch as she, with a chicken in her left hand and a duck in her right, carries a chubby baby on her back and sings triumphantly along the way.

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.”