Road to be the Best Chess Player in the World! - Chapter 431: The Long-Awaited Blunder!

– Question: “What is scarier than the personal experience of transmigrating into a horror movie?”

Anonymous: “Transmigrating into a movie you’ve never seen before.”

– “Poor comment! There’s nothing scary about that!”

Anonymous reply: “You sure? Can you be sure your dad isn’t a murderer? Can you be certain your spouse isn’t out to kill you for insurance money? Can you even be certain there isn’t any hidden lethal weapon in your son’s lunchbox? The scariest thing is that you have never seen this movie before so, you have absolutely no idea of any ‘surprise’ that awaits you ahead!”

Hence, this novel is also called .

A line to sum it up: The female lead transmigrates into various movie adaptations of real stories, and conquers the audience.

- Description from Novelupdates

Jiang Xinyu transmigrates into the 1950s without parents. In a time of famine with nothing to eat?But she just wants to live the life of a happy-go-lucky slacker...So she has to roll up her sleeves and fight!Carrying space, full of blessings!Heaven's favor, what you think is what you get.While others starve, she gains weight, determined to live out the luck she didn't have in her previous life.

While enjoying the favor of a handsome man, she learned that her country was ruined and her family was destroyed. What should a fallen princess do?Xiang Ying says, of course, she should use space to her advantage, empty the palace, and leave nothing for the enemy army!As the captain of a post-apocalyptic infrastructure team, she was thrown into a book by an explosion.The enemy army entered the palace, famine was impending, and she was encircled as a prisoner of war, taking care of three children.Such a catastrophic beginning made Xiang Ying exclaim, the good days are coming!Compared to the post-apocalypse, what is this?On the road to exile, while others suffered, she enjoyed melons. When everyone else was munching on dry bread, Xiang Ying and her children were savoring sumptuous meals.Everyone grew thinner, except for the three children who remained plump and cheerful, patting their bellies and saying wildly: Mother, we can’t eat any more, really!Xiang Ying, holding hot pot, milk tea, and roast chicken, enjoyed the scenery along the road, hoarding supplies as they fled, making life more flavorful.The villainess mocked her: What use is only having food? You're still a conquered slave!Xiang Ying pulled out the Imperial Jade Seal: Right, from today onwards, I will be the Empress.The enemy army was dumbfounded; she never said the thirty thousand wanderers she brought were elite troops!On the day Xiang Ying restored her country, the man who accompanied her through hardships held her hand.Jie Chen: For the sake of our three children, can we finally become official?Xiang Ying: Men should keep to their places, not seek a title.Jie Chen: ...With the country as my betrothal, my Jade Seal and my nation are all yours.Xiang Ying: Deal! Tonight's our wedding night!

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.”