Strongest Superhuman System - Chapter 36: An Old Stripper

What do you mean by you only accept female disciples?Zhang Yuan glanced at the Emperor of a powerful Dynasty kneeling in front of him and his son, the prince is also kneeling beside him.“Master Yuan, please accept my son as your disciple. I am sure that under your care, my son will reach the pinnacle of the Heavens.”Pinnacle of the Heavens? Zhang Yuan turned his gaze to the so called Prince. Talentless, weak physique and sh!t cultivation technique.Tch, worthless.Zhang Yuan then turned his eyes to another Dynasty Emperor “Master Yuan, please accept my daughter as your disciple.”Seeing the gorgeous woman kneeling in front of him, Zhao Tian smiled faintly.Talentless? I will make you the most talented mortal entity this world has ever seen.Weak physique? I will give you a physique that will break even the limitations of the heavens and earth.Sh!t cultivation technique? Don't worry, choose the best divine technique you want.Sorry but I only accept female disciples!

Fast-paced and sizzling with a forbidden enemies-to-lovers romance, My Fault is the first book in Mercedes Ron’s Culpable trilogy. This suspenseful YA series untangles the threads of love, trauma, and secrets, perfect for fans of Ugly Love and After.Noah and Nick’s relationship started with the most passionate of fires, but after Noah’s mistake, it might have all just gone up in smoke. Nick can’t forgive her. Can’t trust her. Can’t be with her—but he also can’t stay away from her, no matter how he tries. And their inevitable crash back together will ignite the wildest flames yet. But Nick and Noah’s red-hot collision course is marked with a new and dangerous set of challenges, and the stakes aren’t just broken hearts—they’re life and death. The two will have to decide once and for all if they are truly made for each other, or if burning everything to the ground is their only chance at a future. Love might not be enough to save them, and sometimes even | forgiveness can’t fix what’s been broken.As the translator of the Culpable trilogy series Culpa Mia,Culpa Tuya,Culpa Nuestra ; by Mercedes Ronn, it is important to address the readers with a respectful permission and advice. Firstly, it is important to acknowledge that the story belongs to the author and all rights are reserved to her. As the translator, I've been granted permission to translate the story into English for a wider audience. Secondly, it is important to advise the readers to approach the story with an open mind and respect for the cultural and societal norms presented within it. The story is set in Spain and deals with themes such as love, family, and societal expectations. Some readers may not be familiar with these themes or may have different perspectives on them, but it is important to approach the story with an open and respectful attitude. Lastly, any criticism or feedback should be constructive and respectful towards the author and the translator. Personal attacks or derogatory comments will not be tolerated and will be addressed accordingly. The goal is to share the story with a wider audience and promote cultural understanding and appreciation.

Broken-hearted and drunk, Yoshida, a 26-years old salaryman, stumbled upon a runaway-from-home high-schooler on his way back from the bar.

“Hey, you. JK.”*

“What the heck are you doing out here. Go home already.”

“Uncle, let me stay at your place for the night.”

“You can do ‘that’ to me if you let me stay.”

“If you meant that as a joke, it’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking. It’s fine by me.”

“Then allow me to tell you that I have no interest in brats.”

“Hmm?”

“Then, just let me stay.”

Notes:

[*] JK is slang for Joushikousei (high school girl)

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.”