MTL - Sword Among Us - Chapter 3 Three years of dreams, confession

Yin Shuang Shuang, a regular girl who grew up in a conservative family, who never even had a boyfriend at the age of 25, suddenly transmigrated in a world where s*x is all that matters.In a world where value was skewed. Where s*x is expected, glorified, and a fight for the world’s survival. How will Yin Shuang Shuang adapt and survive?Follow her as she navigates the entertainment industry in an attempt for survival and defiance to the world. Would her journey to the top give her the freedom that she really wants? And would love be able to blossom under the society’s heavy repression of it?

[No R-18 scenes]Princess Viana Yanis's life took a dramatic turn after she was married off to a very wealthy Count to save her kingdom's failing finances.Unable to endure her husband's cruel and harsh treatment, she decided to end her life.However, she was given a second chance to live, and she chose to take it.Armed with the knowledge of her past, and supported by a special System, she took various actions to save her kingdom from financial ruin.And she sought revenge on everyone who had hurt her in the past...#regression

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.”