One Piece: The Soul Purchasing Pirate - Chapter 319: Poneglyph

What would you do if your entire world were turned on its head? A Primordial System buzzing in everyone’s heads, displaying strange screens and other displays in their visions. Being thrown into a tutorial before entering your first System Event broadcast across the universe. Returning back to your home after the System Event to realize that it’s been filled with Gates leading to monster-filled domains, a good number of which have already broken and released their monsters into the world. And learning that the abilities every human being has – abilities that have led to the current structure of society – are nothing but the root of their Skill Trees. The very first skill in their Skill Tree out of many. Well, Ashley doesn’t know. She doesn’t remember anything other than some basic common knowledge from before waking up at the start of the tutorial with amnesia. So why should this change anything for her? Other than her finding out about the blood bestowed upon her by a certain primordial and her own Skill Tree. One with just a single skill. A skill to unlock the skill trees of those she kills. To assimilate. What to expect: Skill Trees, LitRPG Apocalypse, Skill Tree Assimilator(the ability to take the skill trees of those the MC kills that she can unlock through Skill Points without getting the skills right away), Livestreamed Dungeons, Livestreamed Public Battles and Events, Chaos Magic, Varied Magic due to Skill Tree Assimilator, and the MC does not start off strong in the start and only grows strong as she assimilates more skills from those she kills, the MC starts out without any memories and few emotions and slowly gains them throughout the series. What not to expect: I do not write romance(for the main protagonist), there will be no harem, there will be no reverse harem, and do not expect a really strong MC at the start of the story as she has to grow into that role.

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.”

Hello, everyone. My name is Shen JianGuo. I’m a night school teacher. I mainly teach the subjects of (Marxist) philosophy and ethics. I occasionally review new policies and measures for the students. I never see my colleagues and students during the day. The training institute classrooms are all abandoned schools, hospitals, or houses. The bus number is 444 and it always appears in front of my door at 12 midnight and disappears before 5am.

What? You say I met a ghost? Impossible. As a staunch scientific materialist, I don’t believe ghosts exist in this world.

But recently I’ve had an issue to raise. Can the training institute bring the class time up a little bit? Wouldn’t it be good to start around 8pm? Though I fear nothing on earth or in the heavens, I’m afraid of going bald.

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In her previous lifetime, they had married for five years. He meant everything to her, but she was thrown away like an old shoe.

After her rebirth, she gave him a divorce contract preemptively—

“Divorce after one year, the terms of the contract are as follows: husband and wife shall not share a room or bed. Intimacy forbidden?”

He raised his eyebrow.

Who knew that after she got drunk one day, leaning on the headboard, he rested his deep-set eyes on her. “You broke the contract, Mrs, Li.”

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