Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 534 - Walking the Path Without Walls

At the end of a Dynasty filled with Demons and rampant Martial Artists, Lin Xuankong has unfortunately transmigrated to this era, becoming a poor and sickly old man. However, with the help of the system Life Plate, his Talent and Comprehension grow stronger the longer he lives.And his much younger wife is a martial master...“That iron ball used to be Zhang Wu's knife. I squeezed it a couple of times, and it ended up like this! ” said his wife.“I hope you can teach me some Cultivation Techniques. As for the reward...” said Lin eagerly.

Novie entered the confession cubicle and kneel down, she wanted to tell someone about her feelings, the pain and confusion that’s been tormenting her heart.
Minutes later, the opposite cubicle opened and Novie saw a man in a priest clothing sat down and folded his hands.
“Father I am here to confess my sin” she started and lowered her head.
“What is your sin?” The priest asked.
Novie sighed, “Five years ago, I hurt a man, I left him the next day he proposed” her voice cracked down, remembering the past
“Whoa! That was harsh!” the priest murmured silently, but she heard it.
Before the priest could give his response, she speaks up.
“I was also hurt but I know that if I stay with him, my family will suffer, so I left. For five years Father I carried the guilt of leaving and hurting him. I mean what I did was right, right? it’s for my family” she blurted out without letting the priest talk.
“I think -”
“It’s not like I have a choice or anything” she continued and interrupted him.
“We all have a choice, I don’t know your reason for leaving him but there must be a reason why after five years you decided to come and confess”
Novie gulped by his words, unsure of what to say next.
“Well?” the priest asked, waiting for her answer.
“What made you confess now, you said you left him five years ago, why now?”
Novie’s eyes went round while her heart palpitate.
“Because...” she shut her eyes and exhaled.
“Hmm?” the priest waited for her response.
“Because my ex-fiance is moving next door, and I don’t know what to do!, my parents didn’t know that I was engaged to him before”
“Are you here to confess your sin or to ask for advice?” the priest asked.
Novie, with her eyes closed, twitched her lips.
“What’s the difference, father?”
The priest cleared his throat and replied.
“Well, relationship coach get paid per hour while us, we accept donation” Novie’s face flattened by his response.
She wanted to continue, but the priest stood up and opens the door.
“states some prayer and I will pray for you. Good luck!” the priest said and closed the door.
Novie was speechless. “I need to donate?” she widened her eyes when she thought of the priest. “What did just happened?” she asked herself with disbelief.
Novie has decided to leave, she’s still confused and nervous. She took her umbrella and walks to the door. She was about to open her umbrella when she saw Ken waving at her.
Seeing his smile, she remembered the dinner last night.

Broken-hearted and drunk, Yoshida, a 26-years old salaryman, stumbled upon a runaway-from-home high-schooler on his way back from the bar.

“Hey, you. JK.”*

“What the heck are you doing out here. Go home already.”

“Uncle, let me stay at your place for the night.”

“You can do ‘that’ to me if you let me stay.”

“If you meant that as a joke, it’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking. It’s fine by me.”

“Then allow me to tell you that I have no interest in brats.”

“Hmm?”

“Then, just let me stay.”

Notes:

[*] JK is slang for Joushikousei (high school girl)

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.”