The Monk That Wanted To Renounce Asceticism - Chapter 464: Departure

WARNING: DARK AND MATURE CONTENT. Readers discretion advised.Serena Alaric wanted nothing more than a quiet life, far from the shadows of her family’s dark past. But when masked enforcers storm her home and drag her into the clutches of the Council of Vitae, she learns her blood is the key to a deadly legacy she never asked for.Lucian Draven is the cold and ruthless leader of a powerful mafia syndicate, cursed to endure unimaginable pain. The Council claims Serena is his only salvation. Yet beneath the Council’s polished facade lies a web of lies, experiments, and betrayal that runs far deeper than either of them imagined.Forced into an uneasy alliance and given a time limit to produce an heir, Serena and Lucian must navigate a treacherous world of power and manipulation, where trust is a rare commodity. As they uncover the truth about the Council’s sinister plans, their hatred begins to give way to something unexpected—a bond forged in fire and blood.But with enemies closing in from all sides and time running out, Serena and Lucian must decide: will they fight their fates, or embrace the dangerous connection that could either save them, or destroy them both?

I want Hollywood to be the Hollywood I want – Lancelot Strelow
His life was full of ups and downs, rebellious, and brilliant. No one can deny his excellence. With hundreds of millions of box office in his left hand and countless trophies in his right, even the most critical film critics have to lower their heads, let alone It is said that countless movie fans all over the world worship him, leaving an indelible mark in this era.
But, he is a bastard.
He is a complete jerk, he relies on Hollywood to become famous, but he is a rebel in Hollywood, his disgusting personality makes him the public enemy of the entire Hollywood, he unscrupulously impacts everyone’s bottom line, and he stimulates everyone unrestrainedly With his nerves, he lightly challenged everyone’s authority, and his unrestrained talent was like a nightmare from which he would never wake up. However, no one could refuse him.
You can only avoid falling in love with him if you completely loathe him – The New York Times

- Description from novelbuddy

On the Star Network there is a gourmet food broadcast, where all you can see are a pair of hands. However each dish that this broadcast comes out with is earthshakingly delicious. What’s more, the broadcast anchor’s voice is simply perfect!

With the broadcast’s rising popularity, several food programs extended him an olive branch. When the anchor appeared on screen, as they suspected, he is handsome enough to incur the wrath of both men and gods! The fans licked their screens with increasing frenzy, but after licking a while, they discovered…

Fans:…Wait a minute, isn’t this our fatally-ill idol who hasn’t long to live?

Small Gong: Take these damned nutrient solutions and throw them away! And get me that broadcast anchor!

- 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.”