Academy’s Genius Swordmaster - Chapter 45: Erosion (1)

The arrival of origin ability era. Many berserk beasts spawned. Humans with superpowers blooming like mushrooms. Su Hao is just an ordinary 3rd year high school student who had mastered a lowly grade origin ability named
“Model analysis”.

In his last life, Xue Yan had been a powerful minister all his life. When he returned to seven years old, he didn’t want to be any more. In the same way, he has all the power in the world, but his family cannot end well.

Unexpectedly, his father suddenly picked up a baby girl, saying that he had raised him and would be his daughter-in-law.

The daughter-in-law is all good, but not good at all. She can’t be allowed to sneak out alone.

Otherwise, she will bring you back a great general this time, and next time she will bring you a different surnamed king, and even the queen mother of the dynasty will be rescued…

Not long after, I’ll bring you a little emperor again…

*

Jiang Yue, the supreme commander of Area A in the end of the world, actually dressed in ancient times and became a three-and-a-half-year-old girl.

No matter how she lived her life, it was just that her future husband didn’t know what was going on. Every time she kindly rescued a person, he would be disgraced.

(Sweet pet text, one-on-one, double clean)

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”