Unfathomable Senior - Chapter 22

The pessimistic and negative daughter of a concubine living in the ancient times thought – since life is so difficult, why should one invest serious effort in struggling to live?

The life of an ancient noble woman is often determined and controlled by her family. Moreover, one’s actions often implicate one’s entire family – thus, it is fairly common to see an unexpected calamity result in suffering borne by one’s whole family. Managing to live a good and successful life while retaining one’s dignity is simply too difficult to achieve.

Ah, living in the ancient times is simply too dangerous – we should all just sleep till we die.

Chen Xun crossed into the vast world of cultivation, awakened the Immortal System, and even received an Immortal beast as a companion.Chen Xun walked out of the ordinary small mountain village, stepping into the world of cultivation.Experiencing the prosperous era of cultivation world, the golden age, the era of rule collapse, the dark great turmoil era, and the era when all spirits were silent...Chen Xun, have no interest in fighting or killing, nor do I want to provoke anyone. I just want to travel the world with Bull and see all the splendor of the world.

I, Ichinosuke, failed to get a job for 100 consecutive times. Furthermore, my record is still being updated as unemployed.

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.”