Naruto: Can't Use Ninjutsu? I'll Create the Strongest Fighting Style - Chapter 38 - 36: Kakashi Goes Book Hunting While His Students Talk About Generational Trauma

As Wanzhu Corporation’s number one assistant, Lin Hui was, without a doubt, an incredibly outstanding individual.

The CEO trusted him. The employees relied on him. Their business partners appreciated him.

Lin Hui’s career was like a duck to water. However, he had been secretly in love with his boss for several years.

Just as he thought his life would continue like this forever, he and his boss accidentally…

Within Wanzhu, no one could say no to Assistant Lin. Not even the CEO.

- Description from Novelupdates

Luke has transmigrated to the United States, but eventually realizes that this United States is different from the United States of his previous life. Here, the superpowers and characters from the movies in his previous life actually exist. How will Luke fare in a world where such terrifying superpowers exist?

Illustration for the characters and location are in my Patreon.=================Dying from a heart attack when playing Minecraft was definitely not the way I thought I would die.Being reincarnated afterward was also not what I thought would happen.But I guess having another chance at life is a great thing!Now, how am I going to live in this world of Swords and Spells?

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.”