Shadow Slave | Sleepless Dreamer - Chapter 4: First Nightmare (3)

I am the sword.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, no one dares take ten steps.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, no one can take ten steps.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, ten steps? Not possible!
I am the sword, the sword is me,
On the path towards heaven, each shall wield their own.

Cheng Xu, whose entire property is a waste recycling station, accidentally awakened the system, but why does this system only have a [decomposition] function? So let’s start by refining the gold in circuit boards.

“Wait, I seem to be able to use it to probe?”

“It seems to be good for repairs?”

…

Since then, Cheng Xu has become a humanoid X-ray machine, a humanoid 3D printer, a maintenance master…

But when Cheng Xu completed the first system task, he found out that he really unlocked the system now?

This book is also known as “One Thousand Ways to Use the System” and “My Roommate Who Collects Waste at Home Becomes My Mentor after a Summer Vacation?” “, “You want to marry a waste collector? 》

- Description from novelbuddy

“Why? Just why?”“Why did I became this guy?” That was the first thing I said when I see myself on the mirrors reflection.Lucien Drelmont.A bottom-tier instructor at Noctis Ardentis Academy. A joke of a character. A corrupt, talentless noble despised by both students and faculty.He was one of the early game villain, that was destined to die, a stepping stone for the protagonist, a scapegoat for the Academy, no matter what way the game is played his death was destined.And now I need to survive as him, in this hellish academy._____________________[No Harem][No Romance][No NTR&Yuri]

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.”