The Wielder of Death Magic - Chapter 140

Drunk, I lie on the lap of a beauty; awake, I command the power of the world.From being unknown to dominating the world, when Lin Fan looks back on the path he has traveled, it is all laid out by beautiful women!

When fifteen-year-old Ren Ryūhara's brother falls into a coma after a brutal knife attack, Ren transfers into Sakura High as a first year student to uncover the truth.There, he discovers that his older brother founded the school's most notorious gang!. Ren is this levethrust into a world of territory wars, honor codes, and brutal street fights.The charismatic but enigmatic Fujimoto Hasegawa now leads Sakuratei, and he reveals that Crimson Dragons are responsible for Kaito's condition. War is brewing, and Ren must choose either he walks away from his brother's legacy, or dives into the violence that destroyed Kaito's life.But Ren is hiding a terrifying secret. He is experiencing visions.. terrible visions, flashes of violence, blood, and a future that hasn't happened yet. With his new deadly ability to leap through time he could save or destroy everything.What would you sacrifice to save someone you love? And what if saving them meant losing yourself?

A villainess known by all as a wicked woman who has done all sorts of evil deeds—Ducal Lady Violet.
She regained her memories of her previous life after she fell into a lake and almost died.
The very moment she woke up, she immediately visited her father, Duke Everett, and asked one thing.

“Please confine me to the annex.”

And so, she imprisoned herself there.
Now that Violet was secluded away from the world’s criticism and reproach,
She immersed herself in her previous life’s memories and started painting them.

“What the hell are you up to this time?”

Everyone was suspicious of just what she might be scheming.
However, the misunderstandings surrounding her gradually got resolved one at a time…

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.”