The Laws of Cultivation: Qi = MC^2 - Chapter [B3] 48 — Demonic Battle

Mimizuku, a small girl with chains on her wrists and ankles and the numbers “332” branded onto her forehead, wanders into the Forest of Night seeking to be eaten by a monster. However, when the ruler of the monsters, the mysterious and beautiful “King of Night,” refuses to eat her, she tries to formulate a way to convince him otherwise.

as a gamer, who knew the powers will be diversified in the world of Pirates and Navys?this is a story of a person who is thrown into the beautiful, but dangerous and horrendous world of One Piece, as the Holder of the System with the Job of a Gamer.

Lyra Shedd faced a brutal betrayal—her grandfather violently stole her superpower and handed it to her nemesis; her beloved younger brother, in his stupidity, leaked their only hidden assets to her enemies.Once a genius, she was reduced to nothing, drifting in the sea of stars.During her most agonizing years, she finally accepted the fact that her family didn't love her. Realizing she had nothing left to lose, she decided to throw off all moral restraints and become a villain!On her journey of revenge, she encountered many handsome men—but to a cold-blooded villain, they were nothing but tools for her vengeance!This time, she would make all those who pushed her to the brink tremble and scream for mercy!

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.”