The Lovely Heiress Is Actually A God Beast - Chapter 6 - She is the Second Generation Fierce Beast in the Dream

Shi Jin once read a book. It was supposed to be about satisfying the desire for vengeance.

Ning Shu had dropped dead. But in a burst of good fortune she became a task-taker in charge of counterattacking for pitiful cannon fodder. Thus, Ning Shu, in one world after another, took all kinds of life roles, encountered all kinds of ‘you’re heartless, you’re ruthless, you’re making trouble for no reason’ people. She encountered all sorts of white lotus flowers, green tea b*tches, scheming b*tches, by the batch.

I, Zatiel, Abyssal Lord, Ruler of Death and Destruction, Nightmare of Dys, have AWOKEN!!!!!.

His life contains events that can shake the universe:
-Fighting against Tiamat, Creator of Evil Dragonkind, in the first circle of hell, while billions of demons and devils butcher each other beneath them
-Start a World War against the Heavenly Race, and transform himself into a Golden Sun while he slaughters their greatest warriors, the Archangel.
-Enter the Final Gate and fight against the Outer Gods.
-Tearing the nine levels of Baator during his battles against the Prince of Evil, Asmodeus.

With his memories as a ruler of the Abyss and a Universal Existence, Zatiel will rise again.

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.”