How a Realist Hero Rebuilt The Kingdom - Vol 1 Chapter 2.4: First Let’s Begin from ×× D

With the ability of the King of Silver, the first king in “K”, to be immortal and immortal, he crossed into the world of One Piece. Although he became a Pirate, he did not target One Piece.

His goal is to live freely on the sea, it’s that simple.

- Description from novelbuddy

"It's my first time. I'm afraid of pain. Be gentle…" Fang Xinxin's body is stiff with anxiety.Bai Qinghao pinches her dotingly. "We're just swimming. I didn't pull you with too much force; how did you manage to flop into the water like that?"In their previous life, she had been overweight. Her face was covered in acne. Yet, he still forcefully ate her up. Exactly how much did he love her? However, she never noticed his sincerity and blindly pursued a scheming bastard. In the end, she was left blind and half-paralyzed.After receiving a second chance, she finally understands that her poor appearance was caused by the 'drugs' her sister had added into her skincare products. In this lifetime, she chooses to distance herself away from the bastard, to lose weight, and to 'treat' her face. She recovers her seductive figure and outstanding looks, treasuring her husband's love. They then sweetly collaborate to torture the bastard and give birth to a little 'dumpling'…

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.”