Soul Land IV (Douluo Dalu) : Ultimate Fighting - Chapter 1381: One Half Each?

In the City of Crime, one law stands above them all: Only the strongest can live.

A crownless king in the world of gods.Akamir had unrivaled strength, wealth, and prestige in a realm governed by martial ability.Yet one mistake cost him his life.When Akamir awakened in the fragile body of a disgraced noble’s son,he found himself in a world steeped in mana, ancient artifacts, and gods who watched from above—A world shaped by otherworlders summoned thousands of years ago.But the longer he lived in this new reality, the more he noticed its abnormalities.“I am a villain?”A world with a predetermined path.“...In a romance fantasy game and novel?”He had become the anomaly.

Chu Yunsheng’s head hurts every time he wakes up. Because he is usually either lying in the villain’s bed, or had just gotten up from the villain’s bed.

The reason why villains are called villains is because they are extremely lethal and vengeful… and they love to blacken…

Villain: Bastard, I will castrate you!

Chu Yunsheng: …Oh.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”