Bu Sha - Volume 3, Chapter 3 : Method for Dual Identity Dating

Yours Truly shall have all of you bow down to me!

Arriving in this brand-new world, Lin Fan found himself in possession of a system which allows him to level up indefinitely unbounded by the limitations of this world. Upon learning a powerful technique of Monkey Steals Peaches, Lin Fan realises that he’s poised to literally become the strongest person in this entire world. But of course, how boring would that be unless the whole world gets to know about his great name?

Shameless. Righteous. Smart. Lin Fan will let no one (or balls) stand in his way to glory!

Hilarious for all the wrong reasons and exciting for all the right ones, this novel will definitely have you roaring out in laughter and set your blood pumping all at the same time. Join us in this rollercoaster of a masterpiece with Lin Fan and his trusty sidekicks as he shows the world what it truly means to be YOURS TRULY.

There is a person, whose entire life is a legend. There is a person, whose extraordinariness radiates from his brows There is a person, his name is Lin Fan. Everybody: “Lin Fan, I want to have your babies.” A dominating life of unrestrained swag needs no explanation.

If an ancient scholar searches through the mists of history, he or she will find such an existence:Pope of the night,Angel of the Creator,The hidden emperor of the empire,…He is also the perfect mentor;Wanmen’s guidance,The original source of pain...No one knows where he came from, only that he was born with knowledge and has been with him for years.Let us chant his honorable name together:Spirit of truth, pure man, master of dreams, supreme beyond all eternity

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.”