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... the whole person was a little rough, and every time he got closer, the feeling seemed to be closer to death.

Zhang Kaiwei is not Liu. He does not have Liu to look at it. He does not want to die. He is not Zhang Yang. He does not have the courage of Zhang Yang.

I was getting closer and closer, and my legs began to soften and trembled slightly. Every step forward was so laborious.

Difficult to come to the door of the dormitory Liu Zhu went in. This process was quite slow, eve ...

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“SSS Skills are said to have a will and inheritance. What more have you inherited other than your immortality, Deathless Hunter?”

“Death... your demise is also in my hands.”

Reincarnated into a world where women sit on authoritative seats, Hunter appeared to lack both mana and skill.

However, aware of the real circumstances of his body, he kept his true strength and past life a secret and lived as a sidekick to the village's primary hunter team, hiding in plain sight as “just a man.”

On one fateful day, Hunter's role changed dramatically when his hunting team encountered a red wolf, an enemy they could not defeat.

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Invited by the gorgeous woman known as the boss of the guild Darkness, Hunter leaves his village to learn more about himself and to get stronger to consort with the most beautiful women of this female dominated world!

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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.”