Reincarnation - The Divine Doctor and Stay-at-home Dad - Chapter 966: Culinary Competition

Betrayed by the kingdom he bled for. Executed by the brother he once protected. Daemon died a war hero—branded a monster.But death isn’t the end. Not for him.Reborn on the day of his cursed birth, under the same blood-drenched eclipse, Daemon remembers everything: the lies, the poison, the crown soaked in his mother’s blood. This time, he won’t beg. He won’t protect.He’ll burn the empire from the inside out.His twin brother Gabriel—the golden child, the “righteous” king—stole everything. So Daemon will take it all back, piece by piece.The nobles who cheered at his execution? Dead.The soldiers who held him down? Ash.The kingdom that worshipped a fraud? Buried under screams.This isn’t about justice. This is about revenge, and Daemon’s not stopping until his brother’s skin hangs from the palace gates.The empire made a monster.Now it gets to meet him.

After rebirth, Long Xiaoyuan went into raptures because he was in poor health in his previous life. However, he suddenly found that his soul was in the body of a fatuous and self-indulgent emperor.

This fatuous emperor put sycophants in important positions while executed the faithful and the upright!

This merciless emperor married the son of a general and kept torturing him!

How could he be reborn as such a person?

The empress was pretty handsome and smart. Since the former soul of the emperor didn’t cherish such an excellent man, Long Xiaoyuan would love the guy and save himself by the way!

- 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.”