Empire of India: Rise of the Ruthless Prince - Chapter 166: First batch of Paper

In Widow Village, by a stroke of fate, one gains the inheritance of a divine physician. From then on, every endeavor becomes successful, indulging freely in the joys of life.

[Quck Transmigration #1v1 #System vs Host ]In a massive forest fire, the vine demon Yin Zhizhi thought she was going to turn to ash. But unexpectedly, she bound herself to an “Conquering the Male Lead System.”The system had a peculiar temper, a pleasant voice, and treated her well.At first: The system told her to conquer the male lead, go for it!Later on: The system urged her to take more action when conquering him – hold hands, hug, pounce on him, hurry up!Yin Zhizhi: ????Why did it seem like the system was even more anxious about conquering the male lead than she was?Why did the system crash whenever the world’s male lead appeared?!Until one day, a certain system dropped the act…

It was the Great Age of Pirates, surging forward with their thousand sails unfurled.

One young man from earth ate the Goro Goro no Mi and joined the Marine.

Justice vs Evil, Freedom vs Tyranny, the colliding waves between them would never cease.

But all of this…..”I couldn’t care less about!!”

At the summit of the war, surrounded by ten thousand people, Ron held a thunder halberd in hand and walked forward with strong steps.

Rivals meet face to face, but only one could become the King.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”