Suppressing the Protagonist at the Start to Seize the Heroine - Chapter 44 - Parents Laid Off, Ye Feng Encourages Them to Start a Business

The greatest warrior is reborn as the lowest wastrel.As the Sword Saint, the greatest swordmaster in the world, there was no place Roland couldn't go. No enemy he couldn't defeat. But pursuing strength above all else was not without consequences. The price of his power? Death at the hands of his brother, the last surviving member of his family.Now reborn in the body of Rylan—the greatest shame of the Flameheart family—Roland refuses to waste his second chance. He already had the capability and the drive, but now he also has the wisdom and knowledge of what is truly important. He won't forsake his family again.Reaching the peak will be easy. Doing so while remaining true to his newfound convictions will be much harder.There's just one problem—the criminal underworld won't let their biggest customer go so easily.What to expect:. Reincarnation LitRPG. Swordsman MC in a world of magic, but he'll also learn some magic, especially later on. Strong to OP progression. Third person. Not a murderhobo. There will likely be some romance in the future. No harem* Daily chapters while still in Rising Stars

A young boy named Chen Zong got lucky and found a mysterious Sword Seal. With the help of it, he rose to be a God in Sword who defeated innumerable top talents in all universes from a remote borderland.

- Description from Novelupdates

A necromancer and a saint blessed by the Constellations. That’s me.

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.”