Belle Adams' Butler - Chapter 370 - Chaotic- Part 1

As the youngest captain of the league team, Yu Zhaohan knew that if he wanted to establish his prestige, he must establish a stable personality. His eyes were indifferent, he has a cold face, and he always used a full stop when sending messages. Especially in front of Shi Du, the new transfer, who was too much to handle.

Everyone thought Yu Zhaohan is a beautiful and cold flower, and so did Shi Du. He has never been interested in Bking, and he was too lazy to interact with Yu Zhaohan. Until one day, Shi Du ended his vacation early and returned to the base.

He saw Yu Zhaohan wearing a little dinosaur’s plush pajamas, sitting cross-legged on the sofa watching “Ultraman”, battling an unopenable canned fruit, and even using his teeth.

The two looked at each other, and the scene was very awkward.
Yu Zhaohan’s face was still cold, but his ears were red: “It’s a misunderstanding, I’m not a fool.”

“I see.” Shi Du smiled and approached Yu Zhaohan with full aggression, “Then, does the captain need help?”

After the two dated –
Shi Du: “Do you know baby, you don’t need to pretend to be in front of your boyfriend.”

Yu Zhaohan pondered for a long time, then slowly raised his head: “Oh… can that boyfriend touch my head?”

Note: Bking : Something like a “bking” is a king of “装逼“ which is someone who does cool stuff effortlessly or everything they do is unusually “cool”.

- Description from Novelupdates

In the last life, Tang Mo accidentally lost his space jade pendant when the apocalypse opened, and lost his biggest golden finger. Later, he practiced his abilities, lost his relatives, and was ostracized. He played a good hand of cards all his life. , and finally died in the mouth of the alien beast.

Opening his eyes again, Tang Mo was reborn and returned to the week before the end of the world, and all the tragedies have not happened yet! How will she seize the opportunity to walk out of her own path to become a doomsday powerhouse?

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- 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.”

The clock struck midnight when Ruelle heard the echo of footsteps. She tensed, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end in the cool night air.“You shouldn't be here,” Ruelle whispered, her voice a breathless murmur. The silhouette finally came to stand under the moonlight, his dark red eyes watching her and his inky black hair ruffling.“Shouldn't I?” His voice was a dark caress, and she stood there captivated by the danger he exuded like perfume.“I haven’t seen you for the last two days,” his tone low. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against the silk of her nightgown, tracing the trembling outline of her collarbone. “Tell me, were you avoiding me, or perhaps... entertaining other offers?”Ruelle’s heart raced, her breaths shallow. She declared, “I don't belong to anyone.”“A bold claim,“ he murmured, his breath a tantalising chill against her skin as he leaned in. ”Yet here you are, pulse racing, your body tensed as if in anticipation of my touch.”His fingers gripped her chin, tilting her face towards his. The moonlight caught his eyes, revealing a glint of predatory intent. “Or must I remind you whose touch you truly crave?”