MTL - WARNING! Tsundere President - Chapter 13 13, ah ah!

In a tyrannical world, what is evil? What is benevolence? All living creatures are brutal. Passing through the heaven road to find one’s purpose in life. Struggles to be stronger is not an easy path. The whole journey thistles and thorns, one blade chops open a path, I alone will be supreme!

- Description from Novelupdates

One morning, after being bound to the system, MC started his routine of always being captured/ attacked by the ML.

In her previous life, Fang Qing’s parents passed away one after another, and she herself died tragically in a dark mental hospital.

When he opened his eyes again, he accidentally returned to the time when he was seven years old.

This time Fang Qing was cautious and vowed to change the fate of himself and his family. She studied hard to get ahead, and by the way, she won over the handsome boy next to her who was always blushing.

- 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.”