My Three Wives Are Beautiful Vampires - Chapter 881: Two Powerful Beings.

He’s the dream guy of women world wide, the CEO of a formidable mega-corporation. But, he’s absolutely powerless against her, resorting to all kinds of methods to force her into a marriage, tying her to his side with a certficiate.

Traveling to the world of Hokage, Kamiyo Colt witnessed the chaos of the Nine Tails firsthand.Without any special powers initially, he planned to develop quietly and survive until the Infinite Tsukuyomi. However, when he first trained his Chakra, his system finally activated.The system's rules were simple:By healing others, he could gain random attributes and skills.“Heal Uzumaki Naruto to receive pure Ashura Chakra!”“Heal Uchiha Shisui to gain his bloodline talent!”“Heal Sasuke Uchiha to obtain pure Indra Chakra!”In this way, Colt steadily developed his abilities over more than ten years.During the Fourth Ninja World War, when the ninja coalition saw him suddenly knock out the Six Paths Madara with a single punch, he looked innocently back at them.“What? I'm a medical ninja. Doesn't it make sense to defeat him with one punch?”

With a square halberd in the palm, and a red rabbit and horse under him, nowhere can the world go!

- 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.”