The Yandere System in the World of Cultivation - Chapter 67 The Face Of The Righteous Sects!

Shen Ziqiao woke up from her deep slumber to find herself transmigrated as the character of an ancient novel. To make matters even worse, she was written by the author to be the moronic daughter of the villain, merely a walking cannon fodder.

“Are the Gods punishing me because I left a bad review?!”

Yet it doesn’t end there; she has to strive against a reborn heroine’s revenge! And especially against the major death flag in the plot: getting married to the capital’s fool.

But why does she find this fool’s eyes to be too cunning?

- Description from Novelupdates

After five years, Ning Xi has returned and is out to take revenge on the sister who turned her parents against her and the childhood sweetheart who betrayed her for her sister. She aims to fulfill her childhood dream and become a famous actress. However, her sister is still out to get her, and she has to avoid all her underhanded schemes.

One day, after falling into one of her sisters’ schemes, she meets an adorable kid and saves him. This is how Ning Xi found herself staying at the autistic little kid’s house to help him come out of his shell. Slowly, his father, Lu Tingxiao, starts falling for her too.

- Description from novelupdates

“When the old gods are forgotten, they do not die—they wait.”In the year 1025, the Viking Age wanes.Iceland bows to Christ. The Althing governs by law. And the gods of old fade to whispers.But in the far Westfjords, something stirs.Vetrulfr, a former Varangian captain and exile, returns from the East with foreign gold, forgotten warcraft, and a hunger no man can name.He comes not in peace, but to raise Ullrsfjörðr from ash and ice; building walls, carving runes, and waging war on behalf of a dying faith.From Reykjavík to Aachen, rumors spread: a ghost walks the North once more. Some call him the son of Ullr. Others, a wolf-cloaked demon.But all will know his name.and when the Valkyries call, he will answer.

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.”