My Multiple Identities Revealed After Marrying the Bigshot - Chapter 4 - : I’m Not Done with Her Today!

Mana Awakening. Systems. Gates. Reincarnation.Any one of them would be enough to build a story around. But Ellis’s story has them all… and more.It began with the sudden changes to his world, and how Ellis believed he was adaptive enough. That maybe, finally, he could achieve something.But with coincidences and circumstances stacked against him, in the end… he was reincarnated into a different world.What awaits him there? Will he be able to return to Earth?And more importantly, will he let the circumstances dictate the course of his life again?

Raised as nothing more than a weapon, Xin Long was kidnapped and forged into a killer — his freedom severed, his name reduced to a whisper. In a world where trust is a death wish and mercy is a myth, he treads a path of blood and betrayal, outwitting ruthless foes and surviving inhuman trials. Yet, the deeper he delves into the shadows of Jianghu, the more he unravels a web of dark secrets that bind the martial world.Step into the dark side of Jianghu and witness the so-called Forgotten Tale — a story never meant to be told...

Why, seems like I’ve become a haunted portrait.

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.”