A Stern Mistress from the Ancient Past Becomes the Cannon-Fodder in a Wealthy Family - Chapter 155 - : Travel Together

What is a genius? Capable of comprehending any battle skill regardless of the skill itself and sweeping away the bottlenecks while cultivating a new technique; this is a true genius! He Yiming was originally an ordinary youngster in the He family’s estate with not too extraordinary aptitude in learning martial arts.

SLASH!(So this is death?!!)I, Elysia, found myself dead before even reaching the Demon King's lair, and our Hero Party was completely annihilated.And this was done by none other than a fellow human—my former classmate.He had been mostly invisible during our time at the academy, but then he started committing one crime after another until he became a lackey of the Demon King.Who would have thought that the strongest party of humanity would be wiped out by humanity’s traitors?(If I could go back to the past, I swear I will kill you!)Just when I thought I could finally pass on, I opened my eyes.Five years back, when I first enrolled at Arcadia Academy.And there he was, the traitorous bastard of humanity...****“Huh? Where am I?”One day, I opened my eyes to find myself in an unfamiliar place and came to realize this was the world within the novel Savior's Dawn that I had read.Everything seemed to be proceeding the same as in the novel—except for one thing.The main heroine is glaring at me as though she wants to kill me.Could I survive with the main heroine after my life?

What if you woke up one morning and remembered all 999 of your past lives?

Chae Woojin, an actor who will shine brighter than the stars. A story about his journey towards his dreams!

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.”