MTL - My Senpai Knows Magic - Chapter 187 Firefox

Qiao Nan: Crap! I am your biological daughter, yet I am treated as if I was picked up from the streets. In fact, you treat me worse than that!

Mother Qiao: Qiao Nan, you are not as pretty or smart as your elder sister. You are not as blessed as her. You have no right to study, marry, or to have your happiness!

Qiao Nan: Why am I not allowed to study, marry, or to seek my happiness? I will find a man right now and marry him!

Qiao Nan is dumbstruck upon discovering that the man right beside her is a powerful figure in the quad—the person who has the most promising prospects to be the future Chief.

Qiao Nan stares at the well-built man in front of her. He has firm abs and cold, chilling eyes. She swallows the lump in her throat as she says her greetings, “Good Morning, Chief!”

The “S-rank Hero Factory” that raised 1,000 S-rank heroes.

The graduates’ manufacturing machine.

The strongest support.

These are all words that refer to me. But could this actually be the world of that game?

Rimu Dynasty, Kingdom of chaos. Demons were rampant, and it was difficult for people to live.

Gu Qing’an had not yet had the opportunity to appreciate his beauty upon transmigrating in this world, as he had to face the demon who targeted and devoured humans.

Fortunately, she had a system.

“I, Gu Qingan, have never been weaker than others. System, add it to me.”

……

Many years later, Gu Qing’an, standing on the frozen void, looked at the newly discovered strange world under her feet without any expression.

“Compared to human beings, alien existence is a demon,” she thought to herself.

“Then, are all creatures in this entire world considered demons?”

- 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.”