Rise of the White Devil - Chapter 117: (do not read yet)

The novel Chronicles of the Hero of Frosimar is a story about the failures of the protagonist not the successes.“It’s not good.”The First Emperor, who conquered the whole world, closed his eyes with a brief appreciation (after reading the novel).But the moment he opened his eyes again, there were only a few lines about him in the Chronicles of the Hero of Frosimar.This was because he became an imprisoned prince who met death with his first appearance (in the novel).

Liszt finds himself reborn as a countryside baron in an alternate world resembling medieval Europe. In this world, there are dragons that can discharge metals, elves that can tend to crops, and missions written in mist that only Liszt can see. With the help of the mysterious missions, can Liszt gradually grow from Baron of Flower Town into something greater, claiming the whole continent and beyond?

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.”

She had a lifetime of fake virtue without receiving a virtuous ending. In the next lifetime, she controls fates with the flip of her hand. To the jerk who wasn’t faithful, she’ll draw a premature death talisman for him. For the poisonous step mother, she’ll send a death flower. For the step sister who is two faced, she’ll personally rip off that fake pretty face!

But when she personally offered up her body to her nemesis because of a child who she had no fate with, something unexpected happened. The night of the big wedding, the groom changed and a cold and luxurious man pushed her down. “You can marry whoever you like, but you can only give birth to my children!”

- Description from Novelupdates