Rebirth As a Fatuous and Self-indulgent Ruler - Chapter 297 - So Handsome (II)

Luo Lin Yuan was born delicate, with a big temper, a hard character, and a good face.

Yu Han is straight, good-tempered, and soft, and only sleeps three hours a day.

Yu Han didn’t want Luo Lin Yuan near him.

But Luo Lin Yuan wanted to be around him.

This is an innocent, sweet campus story in which Little Princess Luo went to great lengths to make friends.

Abstinent, Poor Gong x Obsessed with Cleanliness Little Princess Shou.

- Description from Novelupdates

In a world where dungeon runners rise to fame by mastering their classes and conquering impossible threats, Alexander was never meant to be part of it. No class. No path. Just a quiet life.When a mysterious portal drags him into a hidden realm known as his Inner Path, Alexander unlocks a class no one has seen before: Beholder. There’s no fanfare. No guidance. Only eyes that see too much, and power that threatens to unravel his mind with every use.Now, trapped in an abyssal dungeon that reshapes itself around eldritch laws, Alexander must survive alone.But with each victory, his vision sharpens. His spells twist reality. And the deeper he goes, the more the world outside should start to worry.Because when he returns-They won’t be able to look away.

After dying, Chen Heng finds that he has transmigrated to an alternate reality: everything is the same, except the world is now a Wuxia world heavily influenced by martial arts! Not only this, he discovers that he has a Fantasy Simulator, from which he obtains rewards that make him incredibly powerful in his new reality as well. Martial arts, immortal cultivation, and overpowered abilities–all of this begins from a single simulation!

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.”