MTL - Mage Network - Chapter 1501 : Winning or losing in the first round?

Zhen Zhen was reborn in the forest area in the 1960s with a drop of the blood of the ancient gods. The awakening of the blood of the gods not only gave Zhen Zhen one power after another, but also made her the most favored little lucky star in the family!

- Description from Novelupdates

He died on the wedding of the girl he had a crush on, after a long and successful career. After convincing Yama to send him back to the world, he decides to fix the areas in which his life went wrong. Realizing the lack of love and romance in his past life, he sets out to conquer the hearts of various women.

Luo Zheng is at the bottom of the Luo Clan hierarchy, despite his family being the founders of a power refining technique that could instantly defeat any opponent.

One night, enraged by unfair treatment from a family steward, Luo Zheng burns the family records. In doing so, the hidden magic in the book engulfs him and Luo Zheng becomes a new skilled fighter. Fleeing his home and despicable clan, Luo Zheng must learn to harness his powers to rescue his younger sister while his own cousins are on his pursuit.

- 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.”