The Female Lead Has No Cheats - Chapter 211: I Don’t Have the Golden Finger (2)

The world was at the brink of collapse. Humanity’s desperate battle against the Harbingers, monstrous alien invaders from another world, had raged for years, leaving cities in ruin and hope at an all-time low.Amid the chaos, Noah Eclipse, an eighteen year old with no past and no purpose, struggled to survive each day.Noah being a first-generation talent, with a common, unremarkable ability that never stood a chance against the Harbingers' overwhelming might, had spent years labeled a loser, while fighting to keep his head above water in a world that seemed to have forgotten him.But as fate would have it, everything changed one day when he was fighting for his life and at the verge of dying.[Congratulations, you have awakened an SSS RANKED Talent : Void Summoning][Congratulations you have unlocked one item : Eclipse blade!!][Congratulations : You have unlocked a new skill; Void Blink]He was reborn, and for the first time, he was no longer weak nor helpless.With all the creatures and the power of the void in his palms, he would bring an end to the apocalypse!

In the world of dragons and snakes, the talented but congenitally sick martial arts master was reborn as the sole heir of the 19th-century Canadian manor owner. He thought he would make money by practicing boxing, but he took advantage of the industrial revolution to become a giant of the times. The opened template.

In the end, the original owner was a hopelessly sick and consumptive ghost! I am still a bastard having an affair with a gardener…

Wait, what’s up with the claw?

James Howlett looked at the bone claws protruding from between his fingers, and became more and more worried about his future.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”

If an ancient scholar searches through the mists of history, he or she will find such an existence:Pope of the night,Angel of the Creator,The hidden emperor of the empire,…He is also the perfect mentor;Wanmen’s guidance,The original source of pain...No one knows where he came from, only that he was born with knowledge and has been with him for years.Let us chant his honorable name together:Spirit of truth, pure man, master of dreams, supreme beyond all eternity