Black Bellied Belle: Demon Lord, Bite The Bait Please - Chapter 22.1

A world where dragons serve as mayors, elves work in sales, and orcs brew coffee.In a city full of enhanced humans and wandering wizards, I became a young girl with psychic powers.“To do something so terrible to a child… These people are despicable.”“Human experimentation related to psychic powers is an international crime, punishable by at least the death penalty. This is absolutely unacceptable.”“Don’t worry anymore. From now on, you’ve got nothing to fear. We’ll take care of everything for you, little sister!”It seems the protagonists have misunderstood something.

The Dayan Dynasty lasted for more than 1,300 years.

The emperor is critically ill, the crown prince is in charge of the country, the local fairy gates are entrenched, and the central government is in chaos.

wake up,

Xu Yuan saw the ruined temple on a rainy night deep in the mountains,

I saw the strange broken-arm stone Buddha,

as well as,

The woman in black wearing tulle next to the campfire.

…

…

He became the third son of the final boss, the direct descendant of the villain with a clean life background and good roots.

The fake villain is just waiting to be slapped in the face, while the real villain is fled all over the world by a big ice lump as soon as he comes up.

Goldfinger?

False villains only rely on golden fingers to make a fortune, while real villains dare to face the bleak life!

“The sky did not give birth to me, Xu Changtian, and the villain is like a long night forever.”

“…”

“Father, save me!”

- Description from novelbuddy

“Hah..Hah..”

In the midst of what seemed like a battlefield, a young boy with white hair knelt on the ground, struggling to catch shallow breaths. A short sword pierced his heart, his arms and legs were broken, making him unable to stop the crimson blood from coloring the ground.

“That's what you get for betrayal,” a red-headed teenage boy sneered as he stood before him.

“A pathetic person like you could never be my brother,” added a purple-haired girl, her voice seething with anger, as she stood alongside the redhead.

With great effort, the young boy shifted his gaze forward. He could see many familiar faces in front of him—his so-called family, his so-called friends but his gaze remained fixed on her.

“Wh..y, A.nna,” he uttered with immense difficulty and sorrow in his voice, his vision blurring as he locked eyes with the blonde-haired girl, who regarded him with emotionless eyes.

“I did that so I could save you,” he said, his voice gradually growing louder.

“I DID THAT SO YOU COULD LIVE!” he shouted, making everyone present flinch in fear.

“I never asked you to do this” the blonde-haired girl replied, her words crushing the very soul of the boy.

“A...nn.a,”

the young boy whispered one last time, a small tear slipping down from his eye as he breathed his final breath.

================================

Neil survived eight grueling years in a post-apocalyptic world only to die and be reincarnated in the body of Eden Morton, a character from a game he

used to play as a teenager, by an unknown entity for unknown reasons.

Eden's life was a pitiable one, plagued by the constant manipulation and betrayal of those around him – whether it was the princess, the famed hero, or even his very own family. Eden died without ever experiencing genuine love. Now, as Neil took over, he was determined to embark on a new journey, seeking the one thing he and Eden never had : a life worth living.

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.”