Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls - Chapter 98: The first class is about to begin

You are the ruler, I am a subject, you want loyalty, I’ll give you loyalty. You are the ruler, I am the subject, you want my sacrifice, I will sacrifice for you. This lifetime, we’ll only be ruler and subject…… cannot become the one who accompanies you to experience everything.

A deposed empress, a failure of a substitute. Charging into battle, he was the emperor, and she, his general. But within the intimacy of their military tent, he was her husband, and she, his wife.

But everything was star-crossed. For the one he loved the most, he would push her into hell again and again.

- Description from Novelupdates

their example, leading to continuous warfare! However, the aboriginal people of this otherworld who have been blinded by the aesthetics of violence! Rightnow! And in the future! Let me teach you what kind of mecha represents the romance of a man! Let me show you what kind of propulsion is the iron torrent! Let me instruct you what kind of weapon is the deterrence for peace (implied by “nuclear” here)! Let me! Teach you! What exactly is the air-to-ground cluster offensive and the all-round air, sea, and land strike!! Gentlemen! I, indeed, love war! But what I love even more is to stop war with war and bring about a prosperous future where the whole world is unified for thousands of generations! Unite all nations and subdue all races! When the whole world is united as one, it will last forever...

Zixu woke up to find himself in the world of *Naruto*.Too weak to survive? No problem—he has the Kaido template.Unfamiliar with the *Naruto* world and clueless about ninjutsu? No worries—devouring Sarutobi Hiruzen's soul will take care of that.Caught in the constant battles between ninja villages and struggling to protect himself? Simple—just start his own teaching faction.Lacking manpower? Short on talent? Easy—swing the hoe well, and no corner is too deep to dig.

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.”