The Mind-Reading Mate: Why Is the Lycan King So Obsessed With Me?! - Chapter 320: The King’s Empty Sword

Reborn, Chu Feng has got his system before the resurgence of Evil Spirits in full swing with the help of his past life's memories, and immediately travels to the origin country of this event--America.“Ding! Congratulations, host, for killing an Evil Spirit, you will receive the following rewards:1. Strength Attribute 4 points, Physique Attribute 4 points, Mental Attribute 3 points, Spiritual Power Attributes 10 points2. Lifespan 1 year3. ......”

I lived for you in the last lifetime, everything I did was for you, yet you wanted me to die; so, this time, life is mine to live! This world lied to me, betrayed me, and humiliated me, and I am back to change everything!

- Description from Novelupdates

Most people don't choose reincarnation.

Reincarnation finds their way to them.

Perhaps they did something great in their life.

Or maybe truck-sama wasn't looking where it was going.

But without fail, those who reincarnate are destined for something great.

A new life where everything changes for the better.

But...

Reincarnation isn't always the greatest thing.

Sometimes you just draw the short end of the stick.

Di Tou just happens to have drawn the shortest stick.

Pulled out of his life randomly.

Taken by a crazy old eccentric man not as a disciple, but as a body double?!

And a janitor body double no less?!

Grasping a system to find... It's a JANITOR SYSTEM!?

Truly, how unlucky can one get?

……………………………………………………………

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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.”