The Tales of Draconic Warlock - Chapter 218: Start of my fifth year (2)

Once an unsung slave; Yur’s existence was defined by blood, pain, and chains. That was until he stumbled into Zulmasharr, the realm of demons.In the depths of despair and agony, a near-death encounter unsealed the terrifying truth of his existence; he is no mere mortal. A cursed hybrid of human and demon; Yur’s survival was only possible through the bloody rebirth of his Ashkavaal bloodline and the awakening of his sinister cultivation system, Zul.With Zul, Yur can rear demons for rituals, harvest their power, and dominate the chaotic world around him. But freedom comes at a cost. As the incognizant successor to an ancient being, his every step is burdened by the weight of a destiny he never asked for. Yur craves only one thing: to stay free, unbound by demons and men. Yet his growing power and severed bloodline ignite the fascination of forces that would see him enslaved or slaughtered.Yur must steer through a world of demons where trust is a fault, survival is animus, and his very existence is a blemish. Blood will pour, flames will revolt, and demons... they kneel or die. But in the end, is freedom attainable for the bearer of a bloodline forged from blood and ash?Will Yur vanquish his fate or will it condemn him?

“If fate wants me to suffer, it should have picked someone else!” —Raven.Raven wakes up as the protagonist of his favorite novel. He knows the brutal storyline that makes grown men weep.The original protagonist endured it all, but Raven has no plans to play along.He has a system, but that broken thing has everything locked.He has knowledge of the plot, but no clue what twists the author hid beyond what he read.He has a choice to suffer like before or rewrite everything.The tragic twists? Fuck themThe heartbreaking losses? Skip themPointless sacrifices? Save themNo more misery for the sake of character growth.This time, he is writing his own legend and a story worth remembering!

Yao Mo Xin, the empress of Da Chu died in a cruel way a day after she gave birth at the hands of her husband the emperor, Ye Hong Yi, and her legitimate second sister, Yao Shu Ran. Ye Hong Yi got the throne because of the smartness of Yao Mo Xin, but he hated her because she made him feel like a useless person who needed a woman to become the emperor.

Her soul got in the body of her illegitimate third sister from the same mother Yao Mo Wan. Yao Mo Wan has the mentality of a child because the legitimate wife of her father fed poison to her mother while she was carrying Yao Mo Wan. Yao Mo Xin wants revenge for everything that happened to her, so she seduced the emperor and began her plan of taking everything away from him. She did that while pretending to still have the mentality of a child. She also wants to repay Ye Jun Qing back for everything he did for her while she was Yao Mo Xin. In the process of revenge, she met many people who will fall in love with her wit and intelligence.

- 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.”