Reborn With The All Seeing Eye - Chapter 37: The Richest Boy In Three Continents

“Kind? What’s kind about it? Taking on such quests isn’t being kind. It’s just being a pushover. A total pushover.”As the voices faded behind him, Kai glanced back at them.Me? A pushover? No way.[You have performed a good deed for an NPC in trouble.] [+1 Benevolence.]A reward given for doing a good deed?!Calculative, yet compelling enough to continue doing good deeds whether it’s healing or dealing damage.The Healing Solaris Cleric, Kai’s, journey to conquering MID Online!

As the Evil Deity of the Earth, the Ruler of the Wasteland, and the Mother of Desolation, Bai Lianyue now finds herself utterly bewildered, pinned down on a bed. Over a decade ago, in a moment of carelessness, she inadvertently ended the life of the Daughter of the Gods. Wracked with guilt, Bai Lianyue took it upon herself to raise the three children the divine daughter had left behind. Her original plan was simple: wait for the children to grow up and…

After choking to death on a watermelon, Rong Jiahui thought that she would enter the netherworld and be reincarnated.

But when she opened her eyes, she discovered, to her very horror, that she had returned twelve years into the past…

Looking at the beautiful and awkward “little brother” that would be conferred the title of Marshal in the future for outstanding military service, she almost let out a snort of laughter.

She firmly decided to hug the thigh of this little brother, and climb to the top of her life!

The plan was beautiful, but it had just one problem.

Why had this little brother… suddenly turned into…

A little sister…

- 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.”