Martial Arts Worlds - Chapter 263: Karuza High vs. Kaleidos High

Drizzles in the wind, a small shop with pennants, and flower-like vintners.

Xinfeng’s fine wine, tenderly-fresh sunflowers shoots, and superb delicacies.

Lin Yan, Shaoyin of Jingzhao laid his eyes on the restaurant’s owner who has skin as fair as snow and beautiful apricot eyes.

It was pitiful and pathetic for a young lady from high-society to fall into the situation of selling wine…

Yet Shen Shaoguang thought: With wines and delicacies, and being able to see handsome young lads pass by…Life is treating her well enough!

Lin Yan’s expression was heavy, these young lads dress up fancily every day, showing off themselves and playing boring games like rooster fights and dog races…It’s time to straighten them out!

- Description from Novelupdates

The bad news, at least for me, is that I died. The good news is that I was reincarnated into someone else's body who lives in a cult full of beautiful women... but this cult forbids love. Well, one can't have all the good things. I thought I was safe until the worst happened. A system appeared that told me that I would die if a girl didn't accept my confession within a month... I have to get out of that cult now.Every 10 days I upload 15 chapters at once on Patreon.

I lived like any ordinary person when a stranger suddenly approached me, “You are… a hero.”

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.”