I'm A Spider, So What? (WN) - Chapter past-arc-9: Past Arc 9

The unparalleled Demon King Ye Xuan, who was able to heal the death or the living alike and holder of the medicine Holy Scripture, was betrayed and killed by his fellow Demon Kings. But he reincarnated into the body of Ye Xuan, the prodigal son of the Ye family and vowed to himself that he would return to his peak and take back everything that belonged to him!

- Description from Novelupdates

When a glorious old civilization was toppled overnight, a strange purple moon rose and thus began the Purple Moon Era.

The vast Kunwu Mountains, one hundred and eight thousand. Spiritual ethereal sword rising, sweeping the summits of the nine provinces.

A modern day otaku is reborn in a wuxia world, becoming the little shishu of a little sect. Unexpectedly discovering he has the martial arts trade system of a garbage web game. Through it he can actually exchange for all of the martial arts in Mr. Jin Yong’s novels.

And so, Nine Yang Manual, Nine Yin Manual, Nine Swords of Dugu, Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms… All kinds of amazing martial arts started to dominate the jianghu of another world…

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”