Super Invincible Battleship - Chapter 4 - 3 Yan Fei’s Wealth

Kurogami Ichiro was desperate because he couldn’t achieve what he wanted when he once started his martial arts path at age of 8!

“Your stats are lower than that of your average person.”

The weakest by a mile among the otherworldlers of class 1-A, Takatsuki Makoto.

The Heroes and Sages who had cheat skills in his class had went off, and the base set lifespan is 10 years?

The Great Demon Lord is going to revive soon?

I am a Mage Apprentice?

Isn’t the balance way too bad? This damn Isekai is a tr*sh game!

“Want to be my believer?”, the Goddess that told me this has zero believers!

Aah, this is bad…I don’t think I can clear this. The Goddess with zero believers is an incredible beauty, and she is telling me she is imprisoned somewhere and is waiting to be saved. My last and hardest mission is to save the Goddess.

Clearing this Isekai that only has adversities, the story of the weakest mage.

# gourmet # entrepreneurship # eight years old # younger sister # business

Xu Le transmigrated to a parallel universe into the body of an adorable eight-year-old. Here, there are no delicacies.

His parents went abroad, leaving him behind to earn his own keep.

His parents said, “Son, it is time you become a man and become financially independent. Make your own money and bring up your younger sister.”

Xu Le, “I understand, but at least pay off the mortgage before you leave!”

Forced by his circumstances, elementary school student Xu Le shouldered a burden that was beyond his age.

He begins his life of paying off the mortgage, bringing along his younger sister, Xu Tian, along for the ride.

Just then, the “Culinary God” system was awakened.

He could get all sorts of prizes if he cooked delicious food for people to try.

As such, a food stall started to appear on a busy street. In it was a tiny figure as a cook and a long line of customers.

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.”