The Runaway Huntress - Chapter 154 - 153

Brian had just been confessed to during his sky-diving adventure which turned tragic.Now dead and presented with the choice of a world to reincarnate into he chooses the Naruto world with Kaguya's abilities.═══════════════════════│ DISCLAIMER │This is a work of fan fiction based on the *Naruto* series. All characters, locations, and settings from *Naruto* are the property of Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Viz Media, and their associated rights holders. Additionally, this story contains references to characters and elements from other anime and manga series. I do not claim ownership of any copyrighted material used in this fan fiction.The plot and any original characters are my own creation. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights or trademarks. Please support the official releases and the original creators by purchasing or legally accessing their works.

The summer I was 17. A painting I created was sold. For 1.4 billion won.

In the Dragon Abyss Empire, nestled within Clear Water Town, young Jiaang Lin awakens from a brutal beating by his cousin Jiaang Ren, only to discover he has been reborn into his younger self. Once a mocked disciple with blocked meridians, Jiaang Lin had risen to greatness in his past life as a prodigious warrior and Pill Saint. Now, with a second chance, he vows to protect his loved ones and conquer his enemies. How will Jiaang Lin change his destiny and ascend to the pinnacle of martial prowess once more?

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.”