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... th passers-by and we will never meet..."

   Lu Buwei's words carried a bleak and desolate feeling, as if at this moment Lu Buwei had entered the countdown of his life, with a hint of desolation.

   Hearing the words, Li Si's footsteps stopped, then turned his head and bowed solemnly to Lu Buwei, saying, "Li Si would like to hear the teachings of Marquis Wenxin—!"

  Li Si joined Qin, and he was able to get in until now, and the one who contributed the most was Lu Buwei, so he ...

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“With Binding system as my trump card, I will become the strongest man in the world and sit on my throne with beautiful women in my arms.”

What would you do if you died and God transmigrated you to another world?

What would you do if Gods and Goddess watches and comments on your adventures?

What would you do if you could communicate with Gods and Goddesses?

Xiao Ming, the grandson of the Ruler, fell off a cliff when he was training martial arts with his father.

When he thought he was dead, he found himself transported to a parallel world where monsters and powerful people ruled the world.

Luckily, one of the goddesses gave him a system to help him survive in his new world and achieve his dream.

“You awaken the mage class? You awaken the Archer class? You awaken the Knight class?” Xiao Ming behaved normally. “I only need to bind my system to someone and I can awaken that person's class. In other words, I can awaken all three classes.”

Xiao Ming, the grandson of the Ruler, decides to continue his dream in his new life.

Follow him as he embarks on his journey to become the Ruler and bind his system to beautiful women.

……………………………………………………………

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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.”