MTL - Collector of Online Games - Chapter 1759 Public ranking

Zhen Zhen was reborn in the forest area in the 1960s with a drop of the blood of the ancient gods. The awakening of the blood of the gods not only gave Zhen Zhen one power after another, but also made her the most favored little lucky star in the family!

- Description from Novelupdates

I was born in Japan and inherited a temple at the beginning.The system is activated at the beginning, which can enhance everything.“Ordinary Buddhist Scripture” enhanced to “Medicine Buddha Sutra”Recite the sutra ten thousand times, and you will become a Vajra!“Vajra Pestle” strengthens “Vajra Indestructible Root”The most rigid and masculine, indestructible!“Eight Divisions of Heavenly Dragons” enhanced to “Great Heavenly Dragon Visualization Method”Great Heavenly Dragon, Prajna Buddha!The widow haunted by evil spirits, the eight-foot-tall adult…“I don’t know if I can bear it.”“Demon, I want you to help me practice!”

Seventeen-year-old Hajime Nagumo is your average, everyday otaku. However, his simple life of pulling all-nighters and sleeping in school is suddenly turned upside down when he, along with the rest of his class, is summoned to a fantasy world!

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.”