Super War God in the City - Chapter 49 Who Do You Think You Are?

She never dreamed that she would meet him in the bathroom and they...Five years ago, she betrayed him for some reason and chose someone else, which deeply hurt him and he swore to make her pay the price. After the reunion, he launched a fierce attack on her, while she tried to escape this emotional entanglement.However, the red line of fate seems to have already tightly connected the two. Through repeated interactions and confrontations, they gradually uncovered their past misunderstandings and got to know each other again. His deep affection for her remained, and she was gradually moved by his sincerity.

I am the sword.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, no one dares take ten steps.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, no one can take ten steps.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, ten steps? Not possible!
I am the sword, the sword is me,
On the path towards heaven, each shall wield their own.

Encountering a car crash, the King of Silver Screen, Ye Sinian, was bound to a Cannon Fodder Counterattack System.

After reincarnating for hundreds of lives, he has finally earned enough “travel expenses” to go back home.

However, he didn’t think that the system would suddenly malfunction, making returning back home from then on hopeless.

With the shackles of a millennium broken, Ye Sinian aggressively counterattacked!

Reversing fates while hugging the mentally ill* Lord Seme, he walked towards the apex of humanity!

*Mentally ill – Schizophrenic

- 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.”