The Academy’s Deceased Ate It All - Chapter 191

【Survival + Wasteland Reclamation】

Welcome to Survival World!

Here, forget everything you once had and try to live!

In the beginning, there is no tool other than a tree house seed, but you need to find hope in this dangerous jungle.

[Unlocking the creator permission of Survival World…]

what’s the situation? !

[Creator permission unlock failed…]

What is the situation? ? ?

- Description from novelbuddy

Who says that after rebirth, you have to slap faces, abuse scum, and revolve around enemies and men!Revenge is just incidental! Slapping faces and abusing scum are not the main battlefield of life!After being reborn, of course, you have to live out your own wonderful life, otherwise, it would be a waste of the chance of rebirth.

Ling Xue traveled through the fantasy world and became the villain.At the beginning of the story, he gained an extraordinary ability linked to the consciousness of the number one heroine.The stronger the heroine imagines him to be (only on the surface), the stronger he becomes (In Reality).The heroine perceived Ling Xue as an enduring force, an invincible golden spear. She believed that Ling Xue has reached the pinnacle of cultivation and can achieve the highest realm.…So far, Ling Xue has only pretended to be imposing, leaving the rest to the heroine’s imagination…

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.”