CLEAVER OF SIN - Chapter 3: Tenth Son

“I miss the feudal era very much.” Chen Muyang once said to his friends.

When a friend asked him the reason, Chen Muyang said yearningly: “Because of polygamy in the feudal era, think about it, you can have many wives, you can sleep in different ways every day, and you can sleep together.”

“Cut!” The friends despised them, but their yearning was no less than that of Chen Muyang.

One day, the legendary system merged with Chen Muyang, giving him the ability to travel through the heavens and the world. Chen Muyang’s claws stretched out to countless goddesses in the heavens and the world!

“My, all beauties are mine!”

- Description from novelbuddy

I once believed I was the heroine of a modern fairytale, blessed with beauty, wealth, intelligence, and a powerful legacy. Men adored me, women envied me, and I was engaged to the most desirable man, Cole Fay. My life seemed perfect, a dream where I held the starring role. But on my eighteenth birthday, that illusion crumbled. The truth hit me hard: I wasn’t the protagonist, nor even the villain or a side character. I was just cannon fodder, a disposable part of someone else’s story. But when fate recognized the cruel joke of my life, I was granted a second chance. This time, I’ll write my own story, living for myself. And this time . . . I will never love you again.

In this world, Planet Earth had undergone great changes and humanity is faced with extreme danger. Luckily, humans have something called the Heaven Dao software.

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.”