Lucky Little Wife Reborn in 90s With A Space - Chapter 338: He’s Not Reliable

In his past incarnation, Lu Xuan was the youngest Celestial Lord that the universe has ever seen!
An accidental rebirth brought him back to a thousand years before, where the Earth had just begun its spiritual reawakening. When he stepped onto the way of cultivation for a second time, he swore to rewrite all injustices suffered in his past life, and defeat all enemies that dare stand in his way!
Let invincibility be his cultivation and the path he treads. In this life, it is his destiny to be invincible!

Qin Chen was transmigrated to the Taiyi Holy Land where he became a servant in charge of sweeping the floor. However, on his 16th birthday, he was rewarded with a system where he was rewarded whenever he signed in at a new place.

When he signed in at the Empire Ruin, he was rewarded with the strongest Chaotic Holy Body and the Chaos Emperor Scripture.

When he signed in at the Demon Sealing Land, he was rewarded with the Probationary Royal Armies.

When he signed in at the Alchemy Palace, he was rewarded with the Divine-grade Alchemy.

When he signed in at the Herb Garden, he was rewarded with an Immortality Elixir.

When he signed in at the Empire Palace, he was rewarded with the Emperor-grade Divine Art, Revival.

…

Qin Chen thought he could just spend the rest of his life signing in at different places until he became invincible.

However, when the ruin of the Great Kingdom appeared inside the holy land, people from other holy lands, prestigious families, and even ancient empires gathered to defeat the All-Powerful Demon King who appeared with the ruin. The Demon King had killed countless people and had planned to destroy the Taiyi Holy Land.

Qin Chen was left with no choice but to step up. When he killed the Demon King with a single slap, he sighed, “Why do you guys have to force a mere servant to act?”

Shen Weiyi has a younger, boy-next-door boyfriend whose allure lies in his height, long legs, and strong torso. With a wild mind and a talent for flirting, the eighteen-year-old Jiang is impulsive, fun-loving, and fickle, exhibiting both innocent and wolf-like traits at the touch of a button. Beloved by countless girls, he always thought Shen Weiyi, who would do anything at his mere call of 'sister', would forever indulge him, only to find she suddenly doesn't want him anymore.Breakups are breakups; whoever regrets it is a dog.Shen Weiyi, once red-eared and compliant to his every whim, now won't look back, leaving an eighteen-year-old Jiang's genuine liking turning into a resolute declaration of disinterest. 'Jiang,' she says, 'I date for happiness, not for extra headache.'Later, a desperate Jiang tries everything for her, getting injured in the process and lowering himself to the dust, only to see her blooming in another man's arms, which drives him to a jealous rage.Sheng Ting, the genius of the Z University, untouchable and seen by everyone as the embodiment of purity and restraint, had decided the names of their unborn children upon his first glimpse of Shen Weiyi.[Childhood friend VS Sudden love, not seeking the adoration of the whole world but asking to be your one and only exception in 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.”