Reincarnator - Chapter 377 - Inheritance War (7)

The word defeat did not exist for Wei Congying in his relationships.

But the biggest joke was after the prodigal son returned and realized he was someone else’s stand-in.

Three years after breaking up, while sitting in a fast food place in the Isle of Mann, he saw her and discovered an something even more laughable…

He was still in love with this heartless person.

- Description from Novelupdates

Cheng Mingyi was a little lonely throughout his life.

He only brought trouble for the brother who he grew up with and who always had his back. Through fate, due to an accident he became a second generation rich heir, Tan Feiyang. He thought, this time he could repay his Fifth brother.

Jian Ningzhe, became a first class actor with third rated reputation. One day, the infamous Tan Feiyang gave him an olive branch…

Jian Ningzhe refused to accept the hidden meaning behind it. Tan Feiyang “…Did he just ignore my present for him?”

- Description from Novelupdates

The weak cry out with all their might, yet no one cares; The strong whisper softly, yet their words penetrate deeply into the heart. A Talent Tree ablaze with flames, every leaf bearing different spirit runes, Lu Ye, reduced to a mining slave after his sect was destroyed, used this to become a cultivator and stirred the winds of change in the Nine Provinces...

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.”