Socially Anxious Girl Starts Hoarding Before the Apocalypse - Chapter 159: Blue Eyes

Dorian was out celebrating his college graduation when a car slammed into him, and darkness took hold.

[Youngster don't understand the charm of 'milfs', instead mistaking Lolitas as the treaures]Leading a life filled with regret and pain, Li Zhiyan reborn with a seemingly feeble 'system', taking back to 2010.Right at the moment he was about to be publicly rejected at graduation party after confessing his feelings with a bouquet of flowers to the school beauty, Yu Sisi, and about to become a joke among his peers for years.“I...I am reborn?”The wheels of a new fate begin to turn.All along, the school beauty Yu Sisi has only been deceiving and playing with him. In his past life, Li Zhiyan himself did not know and became a laughingstock, but now, as a reborn person, he has already seen the true face of this girl.He chuckled coldly, glanced at the mother of Yu Sisi on the side, the 41-year-old Aunt Gu Wanzhou.She was mature, intellectual, elegant, kind, considerate, low-profile.The sex appeal of a mature milf lady was radiating all around.Li Zhiyan decisively picked up the flowers, ignored the school beauty, and boldly confessed his feelings to this attractive mature woman in front of everyone.“Lady Gu, actually, I've had feelings for you for quite a while.”

Luo Lin Yuan was born delicate, with a big temper, a hard character, and a good face.

Yu Han is straight, good-tempered, and soft, and only sleeps three hours a day.

Yu Han didn’t want Luo Lin Yuan near him.

But Luo Lin Yuan wanted to be around him.

This is an innocent, sweet campus story in which Little Princess Luo went to great lengths to make friends.

Abstinent, Poor Gong x Obsessed with Cleanliness Little Princess Shou.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”