The Sect Leader System - Chapter 239: The Jig Is Up

A detective travels across the United States and becomes an agent of the Los Angeles Police Department.

After getting through the initial confusion, he repeatedly solved strange cases, became famous all over the world, and was called the most legendary detective in history…

- Description from novelbuddy

If Xiao Yan had never lost his Dou Qi initially.If Yao Lao had died within the Soul Ring due to severe injuries.If Xiao Yan happened to join the Hall of Souls by chance.If a butterfly flapped its wings and altered the course of fate, how would the gears turn?“.... Who are you?”“Hall of Souls, Xiao Yan!”--------------------Worlds: Battle Through the Heavens, The Great Ruler.Tags: Action, Adventure, Romance, Harem, Weak to Strong, Clever Protagonist.Minor Tags: Comedic Undertone, Pets, Reincarnation, Kingdom Building.No System / No Prior Knowledge of the World.

Wen Qing was pulled into an infinite flow game, and after struggling through the first instance, he received a strange buff.

System: 【 All non-human beings will have a good impression of you. PS: ***** 】

Wen Qing asked cautiously: ”What do the asterisks mean?”

System: 【 It means ***** 】

The blocked words are definitely not good at all!

Wen Qing cried: ”Can I refuse this weird buff?”

System: 【 The highest-end hunters often appear in the form of prey. 】

Wen Qing choked. ”Am I the highest-end hunter?”

System: 【 You are the most delicious prey. 】

Wen Qing: ???

- 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.”