Snatching Women from the Male Lead - Chapter 135: Two whips

After waking up in the body of the Young Master of the Luo family, he finds he has the knowledge of hundreds of games and Light Novels. However, he finds his Dantian is crippled, so he can’t practice cultivation! Luckily, he has the Upgrade system.

A war veteran and an anime fan as well, he got into anime by watching it with his grandson after his retirement, his grandson loved pokemon and so did he also came to like this world of pokemon where people didn't kill each other and people used to have fun with there pokemon, after watching Pokemon with his grandson and playing with him all day he got back his childhood which he could never experience due to the cruel war, and as of now our MC has turned 82 years old he was very satisfied with his life with no regrets and waiting for death to take him away but will death be is end or will it start a new beginning, a new legend.

“I miss the feudal era very much.” Chen Muyang once said to his friends.

When a friend asked him the reason, Chen Muyang said yearningly: “Because of polygamy in the feudal era, think about it, you can have many wives, you can sleep in different ways every day, and you can sleep together.”

“Cut!” The friends despised them, but their yearning was no less than that of Chen Muyang.

One day, the legendary system merged with Chen Muyang, giving him the ability to travel through the heavens and the world. Chen Muyang’s claws stretched out to countless goddesses in the heavens and the world!

“My, all beauties are mine!”

- 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.”