Game of Thrones: Oath of Iron and Fire - Chapter 1: Gendry the Bastard

The Dayan Empire had enjoyed a reign of over thirteen hundred years.The Emperor was critically ill, the Crown Prince was regent, local immortal sects were entrenched, and central authorities were vying for power in the chaotic court.Upon waking,Xu Yuan saw a dilapidated temple in the mountain rain at night,saw the eerie, broken-armed stone Buddha,and,the mysterious woman by the fire, her face veiled by thin gauze.......He had become the ultimate villain's third son, of pure heritage and legitimate lineage.The fake villain, dressed in fine garments and enjoying luxurious feasts, simply waited to be humiliated, while the real villain was caught by the Big Ice Lump and dragged across the world in flight from the start.Golden finger?Only a fake villain relied on a golden finger to get rich, a true villain dared to confront a bleak life!“If Heaven had not birthed me, Xu Changtian, villains would be as eternal as the never-ending night.”“........”

When a glowing portal yanks Leo from his struggling existence, he is saved by a mysterious system which gifts him new chance to break free from his side character experienceRebuilding an abandoned guild to honor his family’s legacy, Leo finds himself under the evil eyes of monsters, both from humanity and the gates he ventures intoin short : overpowered necromancer building a guild.

“Hello, A007. My name is Mei Lu, a maid.”

“Bound to you, can you help me find the owner?”

- 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.”