Fey Evolution Merchant - Chapter 52: Victory

Liu Wei wanted to be a librarian, simply taking care of the books he deeply loved. However, he was a son of a wealthy businessman and his future was already cemented.He fought for his passion and, in the end, he was cast out.With no home to go, he was hit by a truck and transmigrated in the cultivation world with a Legendary Librarian System!“Librarian, I read a book on how to cultivate chickens to start a business from your library and followed it. Why did my chickens suddenly fly and become a phoenix?!”“Librarian, I read the book about the alchemy process from your library and followed it. Why did my pills suddenly roar and manifest into a dragon?!”“Librarian, I read a book about how to take care of my horses from your library and followed it. Why did my horse suddenly grow wings and horn and fly?!”“Librarian…”They were in awe, the librarian and his library are shrouded in mystery.

Reborn as a sister of a villain with no blood or tears in a war-fiction novel. Anyway, that guy, who plays ‘my brother’ role, is a villain who will be sealed by the Main Lead after losing the war. So I just need to pretend to be his little sister until he disappears. No, at least that’s how I think … ‘Something in your right hand, is that the main lead’s head?’ My brother won the war. *** “What’s with the suitcase?” “Yes?” At the tip of Dietrich’s long finger, there was a package that I had wrapped up as soon as he left for the battlefield. “I asked what it is.” “It’s, It’s a travel bag, brother.” “Travel? Alone?” Dietrich’s dark eyes glistened. The man who had just returned from victory had a strange smell of blood from mu*der. “Will you leave me?”

A cold and homophobic top matched with a person he hated on a dating app, and discovered that the other was even more clingy than he thought!

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.”