The Vampire Cat System - Chapter 310 Appraise

[Dimension Exploration] + [Management] + [Urban Legends] + [Comedy] + [Meat Pigeon] + [I'm Surrounded by Beauties]The renowned sharp-tongued food critic Tang Rijie had already wolfed down three large bowls of rice, sweating profusely, yet he stubbornly maintained his stance.“I admit the dishes in your restaurant are all delicious, and the appearance, scent, and taste can be considered perfect, but I must say, I didn't taste any soul in these dishes! And the soul is the key to determining the success or failure of a dish!”Ma Lu's expression remained unchanged, “It's just a soul you want, right? Just wait.”Having said that, he walked into the kitchen, took out two souls from the freezer, and stuffed them into the blender.10 minutes later, a steaming plate of dumplings was placed in front of Tang Rijie.“Hello, sir, here is the soul you asked for, all wrapped inside.”

I became an extra who confessed to the main character in a female-oriented romance novel but was rejected – an embarrassing history. However, I tried to brush it off as no big deal, until… “…Didn’t you say you liked me?” After you rejected me, why are you now clinging to me…?

The maniac who was crazy about all kinds of fields such as military and steampunk had been reincarnated.

However, his father was King Sejong the Great?

The mania-wise king and his crazy maniac son.

Along with the ministers, and countless humans who were getting exploited.

Even today, the night of Joseon was filled with the light of overtime.

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.”