Sugar and Spice: The CEO's Feisty Wife - Chapter 387: N- no!

I reincarnated with e*otic game skills, but this is apparently an apocalyptic dark fantasy. I can’t die, so I tried to save the world with e*otic game skills… “Saint! Save us!!” “Saint! Save us!!!” People keep calling me a saint.

Jiang Chen accidentally traveled through and started his comprehensive journey.

The world is tentatively scheduled: Naruto – Attack on Titan – Blade of Demon Slayer – Sword Art Online – Detective Conan, etc.

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In the Naruto world, Jiang Chen obtained the apprenticeship ten thousand times return system, as long as he taught his apprentices, he could get a correspondingly high return reward.

As a reward, Jiang Chen taught Hinata the black coffin he brought from the world of the god of death to Hinata.

During the Chunin Exam,

Neji: “Abstain, Hinata, you are not fit to be a ninja.”

Hinata: “I don’t want to run away, Brother Neji, let’s have a showdown! The turbid coat of arms is faintly revealing, and the unruly and arrogant talent… The Ninety of Destruction: The Black Coffin!! !”

Everyone: “You call your brother on the lips, but you actually kill him. This girl is too scary!”

(The introduction is weak, please move to the text~)

- Description from novelbuddy

Igor had asked him to die for the world. She would ask him to die for her. Problem was, he didn't really like dying, not for a second time, at least.

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.”