The System Mistook Me for a Cat - Chapter 209

Six years after being ousted from his debut group due to facial burns, Suh Hyun-Woo finds himself regressing back to his days as a trainee, engulfed once more in the world of ruthless competition.

This time, he's determined: he will make his debut, no matter what it takes.

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Lu Qingze, a people’s teacher, once transmigrated into a book and became an unfortunate imperial teacher.

Surrounded by wolves, either defect to the prime minister who has power over the government, or cultivate the young emperor into a generation of emperors through the ages.

Out of professional habit, Lu Qingze chose the latter.

No one is in awe of Lu Qingze, the emperor’s teacher who raised the young emperor with one hand. He has countless supporters of the imperial teacher. It is rumored that Lu Qingze has an ugly face, so he always wears a silver mask, lives in a secluded place, and rarely shows himself in front of others.

Only the young emperor knew what kind of pure and beautiful face lay beneath that mask.

After solving the trouble, Lu Qingze realized with hindsight that he raised the little cub to be a large wolf , and now the common enemy is gone, the little emperor started to move the people around him, and the next person who wants to fall to the ground is He; and now that the rabbits are dead, the dogs must be cooked!

- Description from Novelupdates

Which one would you choose between 700 points and 7 million in the college entrance examination? A few minutes ago, Luo Fan would have chosen the blue capsule without hesitation, and slapped the person who asked this question across the screen, but today this choice actually came true, facing 700 points and…

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”