Game of Thrones: Path of the Hungry Bear - Chapter 71: The King Comes To Winterfell

The world’s top ten conglomerates had joined forces to create a programme where the crew had quietly evacuated all the people from a city, leaving behind only Raymond and his family, who were kept in the dark. Their purpose was to see this child, who had emerged from the slums of America, get humiliated.

It’s a story that happened long, long ago, in a continent far, far away, about gods and mortals, sword and magic, war and peace, and of course love and hatred.

Amon was a poor miner’s son in a remote town in the kingdom of Hittite. Along with the discovery of a marvelous gem, his fate was changed. People on this land called it Gods’ Tear. But wait, what were the gods? It was said that the gods created the world. Then who created the gods?

Forced by the tantalizing fate, Amon had to struggle to find out the truth behind this world of magic and gods……

- Description from Novelupdates

As the head disciple of the number one sect in the world, Luo Jianqing had a brilliant reputation. He was the most respected senior brother of his junior brothers and sisters: the last disciple of the cultivation world’s number one cultivator, Luo Jianqing greatly respected his master’s teachings, not crossing his limits by even half a step.

Afterwards…… he was stabbed to death just like that by the main character with his sword. His master’s sword.
Luo Jianqing: “……”
The heavens wants me dead, yet I refuse to die! See if the will of the heavens is more fearsome, or if the will of my sword is more stubborn!

Wu Yin: “Jianqing, I have something to say to you.”
Luo Jianqing: “Master, I also have something to say to you.”
Wu Yin: “… you speak first?”
Luo Jianqing: “You speak first.”
Wu Yin: “I like you.” / Luo Jianqing: “I want to top you.”
Wu Yin: “……”

- 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.”