I'm Star-Lord (SW Xover) - Chapter 115: C Rampage

Humanity was on the brink of destruction. Muyoung, an assassin from the Forest of Death, fell to his knees. There were corpses all around him. For years, he had worked for the Forest of Death and had finally been able to eradicate them. Now, he, himself, was about to die. He closed his eyes as he felt his heart stop beating.

The heavens and earth change when the blood phoenix descends.

The genius pharmacist transmigrated into a pitiful farm girl’s body. Ignored by her own father, abused by her stepmother, and bullied by her stepbrothers. Her “twin” brother was given to distant relative and she went as the “extra” to live under someone else’s roof.

Luckily she possessed mad apothecary skills. Collecting herbs, plowing herb fields, formulating medicines and treating the ills, she refused to live an ordinary life as she slowly uncovered the truth of her real identify.

Inadvertently, she saved a dashing man who was in reality a big, bad wolf hiding under the skin of an innocent little puppy. He pulled out all his tricks: I have no other means to return your favor of saving my life. What say I repay you by marrying you?

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”