Become A Football Legend - Chapter 201: Resting

So, apparently I'm Albedo now...And to make things worse, I'm in the Marvel universe, which one exactly, I've got no fucking clue.Fuck man! Why do I have to be in the body of a inverted person! Do you know how attention drawing white hair and red eyes look like in the real world?! It's been like what, the 4th person who asked me if they were natural?!...I gotta dye this shit black, like my original hair was...

In Widow Village, by a stroke of fate, one gains the inheritance of a divine physician. From then on, every endeavor becomes successful, indulging freely in the joys of life.

Before being reborn, she made a fuss every day, only wanting a divorce, divorce, and another divorce, until she was in danger and he died to save her.After rebirth, she was overjoyed, only wanting to love him, love him, and love him dearly.However, someone is too aloof. What to do? No problem, she is prepared with eighteen different skills, not to mention she has a 'fox' strategist.Thus, she deals with scumbags with one hand and flirts with him with the other, leading to happy days that bloom like flowers.“Report, someone confessed to sister-in-law.”“What? Someone dares to take Mu Qiancheng's wife? Bring that blind fellow to me, I want to have a good chat with him about life.”

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.”