MTL - The Son of Finance of the Great Age - Chapter 967 Biggest lobbyist

Bob is someone that hate people who praise Lord Buggy D. Clown as the strongest being on One Piece alongside God Usopp. His hate suddenly bring him to his death and even worse, his soul got transferred into Lord Buggy's body. How will Bob live as our Lord and Saviour Buggy?

Ben was having the worst day of his life—then he died. But instead of moving on to whatever comes next, he woke up in the Wizarding World as Benedict Brown, the alternate male version of Lavender Brown. Which is... concerning, because Lavender Brown did not have a great time during the Second Wizarding War.On the bright side, he’s apparently the Dovahkiin. And he has a Skyrim shop system. So, you know, pros and cons.Can he survive Hogwarts, Death Eaters, and whatever else this world throws at him? Or will he end up as werewolf chow just like Lavender? One thing’s for sure—he’s going to loot everything that isn’t nailed down.

People say, follow the destiny.

Traveling through time to become the despised descendant of the Shen family, the royal family gave him the proud daughter of heaven.

The proud daughter of heaven is pleased with the son of the Shen family, and the Shen family does not want to marry such a fairy.

Everyone said that this down-and-out young man should accept his fate, how could he climb up to heaven’s pride.

But even though it is called the destiny, it is not a human matter!

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”