She Professed Herself The Pupil Of The Wiseman (WN) - Chapter 228: A Great Detective’s Entrance? (1)

Even though Gu Yunxi was created from the accumulation of the resentment of souls, there was not a bit of ruthlessness nor cruelty in his nature, only a desire to cultivate. Just as he achieved his human form, he was sent to reincarnate. Under the control of Heaven, he experienced life after life of suffering, dying a terrible death every single time. After thousands of reincarnations, thousands of terrible deaths, he finally accumulated enough power to escape from the Laws of Heaven. He swore to get revenge on this blind Heaven’s Law that’s unable to differentiate good from evil.

So what if it’s the Heavens? He will stir up the rights and wrong, the good and evil!

You want me to accept this life and die, but I just won’t! I want to live, to rebel against the heavens, to reverse this joke of a destiny!

- Description from Novelupdates

Growing up in the slums, deprived of freedom, being enslaved by his parents and thugs, all Lucifer wanted was a life of freedom, a life that he could do whaver he wanted, not being ordered by anyone.And then luck came to Lucifer when he awakened the system, and even luckier was that he was able to raise his Destiny Rank to Unpredictable.But in return...he was turned into Freedom's Most Loyal Slave

Feng Xia transmigrated to a fantasy world. This was the era when spiritual auras were exhausted, various scriptures were lost, and all cultivation techniques failed to aid the cultivators in improving. Feng Xia discovered that he had a superpower of attributes, but something seemed off.

He killed a Black Jade Spider by stepping on it. [Spider Maiden x1] dropped.

He defeated a strong opponent that qualified as a Great Emperor. [Teenage Great Emperor x1] dropped.

He was in a fight with a goddess for three days and three nights. [Mysterious Young Girl x1] dropped.

“Daddy,” a young girl greeted him in a sweet voice. Feng Xia was struck dumb.

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.”