Binding System - Chapter 300 Going to Roshia’s Place

When Ye Mo suddenly woke up, he realized that everything around him seemed to have changed: He has been transmigrated into the modern Earth where spiritual energy is scarce. His pretty master from his former world was nowhere to be seen. Most importantly, he found himself in the body of a young man who has been abandoned by his clan for an embarrassing reason…

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.”

Kiro is a slave branded with a deadly collar, forced to work in brutal mines under the ruthless Kargal Empire. Each year, slaves are hunted for sport in the deadly Hunting Games—a fight to the death on a savage alien moon. This year, Kiro is chosen to play. Sent into a wilderness filled with monsters and traps, survival seems impossible. But something ancient watches from the shadows—and it has plans for him.

Wang Tianxiao was reborn thirty years ago, the day before the eldest son was born.

It was more than 20 degrees below zero, and the wife shivered on the cold kang with her big belly and three-year-old daughter in her arms.

In the pot, there was no firewood to be seen, and the bottom of the water tank was solidly frozen.

What a difficult start.

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