Warlock of War: My Ares System - Chapter 270 Saving

When the protagonist woke up, he discovered that he had become Song Qingshu, who had his meridians destroyed in a contest of martial arts and was banished from his sect. He also found out that this was a chaotic world that incorporated Jin Yong’s 14 novels. What will he do now?

I, Ichinosuke, failed to get a job for 100 consecutive times. Furthermore, my record is still being updated as unemployed.

A one-night stand was all she wanted. A one-night stand was not his style. Still, they ended up together in a night of passion. No names, no feelings, and no complications.

They thought that their unexpected encounter was an isolated incident. However, fate had something else in mind.

As they found each other, back in each other’s arms. Not in a passionate embrace, but with a contract that would bind them for a long time. An agreement they were both bond to honor.

Daniella Hamilton was an heiress who wanted nothing to do with her father and her inheritance. She pursued her career to become a lawyer for the masses who could not defend themselves from the injustice in their current judicial system.

Alexander Princeton, as the name suggested, was a possible heir, next in line to his father, the Duke of the Blackstone House. He also wanted nothing to do with the title or the prestige of the dying Royal Empire. To him, wealth was the real power.

Would their agreement lead them to the fulfillment of their dreams or would it end up in a disastrous union?

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.”