A very cliched transmigration into a comic, a very cliched forum, a very cliched collection of popularity points to come back to life, a very cliched System, and a very cliched golden finger where whatever you believe becomes true.
Di Zhaoshuo, who died in a sickbed, had seen it all before.
But cliches work.
So Di Zhaoshuo decided to do a little fan service.
Just a little.
So the compassionate mortal took up a blade and declared war on the gods, steadfastly walking through the turbulent currents of the age. He salvaged sunken ships and offered up pearls. He was a genius and a madman, strolling up the stairs to heaven, when he noticed a gun lying oddly at his feet.
"Oh, the protagonist's team burned this for me," he said, smiling as he picked up the gun and aimed it at God.
Reader's Guide:
△ I started this on a whim with no outline. Read at your own risk.
△ This is my first time writing this kind of story. Please point out anything that seems off, and I'll revise it as I see fit.
△ My writing is terrible. I mean it: terrible! Read with caution.
△ If you don't like it, please don't hurt me.
Theme: Me, me, me.
Collected, waiting for dinner ε?(?> ?