The System is Four Years Ahead of Schedule, But Weird is Still a Cub - Chapter 337: Is this something a human can do?

Follow Chen Ming as he accepts disciples, establishes a sect, and fights his way in a world that deems him a cannon fodder.
He goes against any common sense using his wits and novel knowhow to finish missions and arm himself against his cruel fate.

The new book “You're in Glory” has been started, the firefighter brother and the wise little sister are waiting for your attraction ~:-DGu Xiaobei has travelled through time. She doesn't have a space-travelling ability, nor a golden finger, only a stubborn and abstinent old cadre!From a cheetah to a loyal dog, from a husband to a daddy.She's not afraid of either covert or overt strategies, and she gets along extraordinarily well with her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law!Returning to the 1980s, in those nostalgic times, she wants to hold onto her perfectly respectable officer husband and live a happy and fulfilling military wife life...

After an unexpected accident, An Luo was reborn as the young master of a business family. Even as his grandfather’s favored grandson, he seems to only be a cannon fodder in the brothers’ struggle to seize power. However, the most frightening thing is… the strange emotions that flicker in his little brother’s eyes as he looks at him. At that moment, overwhelmed by his brother, An Luo angrily thought: Could it be that he is doomed to never escape this vicious cycle of “brotherly love”?

An Luo(frowning): After rebirth, I don’t want to be together with some strange person.

Someone(suddenly appearing in the back, smiling): What did older brother just say?

An Luo: …Nothing.

- 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.”