Can I Still Be Your Heroine Even Though I'm Your Teacher? - Volume 3 Epilogue - Both a Teacher and a Lover

Su Xing traveled through ten years in time and secretly checked in for ten years at Tianquan Peak. He thought he could continue to develop, but he suddenly got three junior sisters.

Xiao Luo and his girlfriend had been in love with each other for four years when she proposed a break up. Because of this, Xiao Luo sped his car in the night and ended up in a car accident. But it was a blessing in disguise as he unexpectedly fused with a high tech system that originated from a universe hundreds of billions of light years away. From this moment on, the entire world started to run amok.....

She was the daughter of a plutocrat, an elite with multiple identities, known and respected by everyone; she was a young girl from a rich family, who was peacocky and shameless, loathed by all.

After being reborn as her, she defeated the bad man and the angelic bitch, took revenge on the bad guy who killed her, married the most noble man, got into the sweetest relationship, and stunned the world!

Reporter, Mr. Leach, what is your favorite thing in the world?

Benson, Jill.

Reporter, Mr. Leach, what do you like to do most every day?

Benson smiled, Sleeping with Jill in my arms at night.

Juliana: ...

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.”