Apocalypse: I have a supermarket stocked with supplies - Chapter 379: He is a bad person.

A new fantasy world built by Fang Xiang, please enter!

- Description from novelbuddy

Yan Qingsi was a woman so captivating that she could change the lives of anyone she crossed paths with. Shunned, shamed, and abused by her family, they wanted nothing more than to see her turn up dead. She had other plans though — she was determined to exact revenge on all who have wronged her, and her main target was her own blood. The first step in her quest for revenge? Seducing Yue Tingfeng — the richest, handsomest man in Luo City, who also happened to be her aunt’s fiancé. Vengeance aside, she also seeks a change of fortune by pursuing a career in acting. Throughout Yan Qingsi’s journey, there will be murders and mayhem aplenty as she paves her way to movie stardom while eliminating her enemies one after the other!

My name is Ye Yong, and I’m panicking right now. I was just reading a novel and accidentally got hit by my phone and I transmigrated and became a villain.

Right now, every day, my thoughts are occupied with how to avoid the male lead and how to make the female protagonists fall for me.

I think and plan my actions carefully, and I make every move according to plan. However, the development seems to have gotten off track. The most obvious changes are the female protagonists, who became different than how they were in the novel. They-

Crap, I gotta run, talk to you later.

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.”