In Naruto: Reborn with a Chat Group - Chapter 83 - : Madara’s Trump Card

My grandfather is very eccentric, performing daily rituals of offering incense to himself, standing in front of his own spirit tablet and eating candles.Villagers are fearful of my grandfather.I am fearful of him too.Later, I discovered that what they were afraid of was not my grandfather, but me.Even grandfather is afraid of me....My name is Chen Shi.The Chen of honesty, the Shi of sincerity.

An orphan dies while saving a bus full of children. For saving countless lives, the Universe grants him the opportunity to transmigrate to another reality.

There he realizes his dreams of supporting his new family and opening a company that will shake the foundations of this new world. He will be known as the MasterChef of the gods, a superstar singer, the best Mangaka to exist, the best Director, the businessman of the millennium and many other adjectives.

Meet Alex Knight, a hardworking young man burdened by crushing debt and a bleak future. When his new boss turns his life into a waking nightmare, Alex finds himself trapped in a job he can't escape, his future held hostage by the whims of a tyrant.Just when he believes he has one anchor left—his girlfriend's love—a devastating betrayal leaves him utterly broken.But then the world changes. The system descends, dragging everyone into a chaotic new reality. Alex becomes the first to sync with it, earning a mysterious title:[Apocalypse Baby][You have awakened the skill: Exploding Touch][Anything you touch turns into a bomb.]Armed with a deadly gift, Alex rises from the ashes of his former life to become an unstoppable force in an urban fantasy world where power rules and vengeance drives him forward.

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.”