Stunning Edge - Chapter 157

He died on the wedding of the girl he had a crush on, after a long and successful career. After convincing Yama to send him back to the world, he decides to fix the areas in which his life went wrong. Realizing the lack of love and romance in his past life, he sets out to conquer the hearts of various women.

Chen Mobai, a third-year student of Xianmen No. 5 High School, is working hard to review and prepare for the entrance to Daoyuan. The direction of his efforts is: to develop a new world

- Description from novelbuddy

In a certain empire, a young prince was born with a golden pickaxe. It should have been seen as a miracle or a blessing, but instead, the emperor wanted nothing to do with the child. He refused to accept a prince blessed with what he considered a commoner’s job, fearing it would taint his royal bloodline.Abandoned by his own parents, the young boy, Shennong, was taken in by a succubus.But neither the succubus nor the emperor knew the truth about him—Shennong was no ordinary child. He was a reincarnator.This is the story of how the world of Matay reacts to the birth of the first Sandboxer, a class unknown to many. Will Shennong forgive those who abandoned him? What was the purpose of his reincarnation in this world? What is the true nature of the golden pickaxe, and what does it mean for Shennong?One thing is certain—Shennong is not alone in this world because he had a true sandbox system and people to support him even in this world.Join him and experience a true sandbox adventure!

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.”