PREVIEW

... s you is not the unknown future, but the repetition of past mistakes. '

Why do many people imagine that their life can be repeated?

Isn't it the choice back then that made me feel stupid now?

The time loop can perfectly solve this problem.

When you are fully prepared, most of the problems that will trouble you will be solved.

Roland originally thought that he, who entered the time loop, was about to reach the pinnacle of his life.

But when he analy ...

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Li Ya crossed the United States to become a high school student in Kansas, and accidentally acquired the friendship system.

The so-called friendship system is to improve the friendship value with friends, so as to obtain skills cards with corresponding capabilities.

“I got the star descent from Superman, the speed from the Flash …”

“From Batman … Um, why is the superpower obtained from the master rich? Why is it obtained from Thor? Hammer? Hammer?”

“I’m not targeting anyone, everyone here is … all my brothers!”

PS (PS: The DC world is in the front of this book, and Marvel, the parallel universe is in the back.)

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The company is particularly down-to-earth this year, giving each person a live chicken that year.
Du Xiao looked at the hen whose neck was too fat in other people’s hands, and then looked at the skinny pheasant in his own hand: “…”
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Chairman: “Remember to bring it when you visit relatives and friends, don’t bore him at home, and treat him well.”
Du Xiao: “…”
Chairman: “Go home, happy Spring Festival!”
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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.”