The Master's Mask Unveiled Again - Chapter 1196 - 1195: My name is Demon. Evil as in wrongdoing, demon as in devil.

As a true over-bearing president scum gong, when Xie He for the Nth time rejected his admirer, he heard a sentence in his head: “Congratulations on achieving the “rejects 100 hosts” accomplishment; as an award you will soon bind to the “Scum Gong and Cheap Shou” system, entering other worlds to complete capture missions.

Go back to 2000.

Lin Feng didn’t want to disturb the situation, he just wanted to protect the things he cherished.

However, there is no need to explain the open life.

Since it’s all over again, there’s no turning back when you open the bow!

- Description from novelbuddy

Abigail, a bipolar disorder patient, wrote a crazy BL novel with herself as the main villain. She vented all her negative emotions, killing characters through the villain she created.Alas, she died of a pill overdose before writing the ending.When she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by the characters she created in the novel! Ordinary people would be frightened to death, but Abigail, a mental patient of an extreme case, rubbed her hands and decided to torture them all at once! How exciting!Except for one, the evil CEO she had her character marry in her novel. He was her eye candy, despite how rudely he treated her.Her everyday schedule (if she wasn't torturing someone) included: Getting up, seducing her husband in the shower, seducing her husband while eating, seducing her husband while working, seducing her husband everywhere from their home to work, seducing her husband to sleep, and somehow, even seducing him in his dreams!It went on like that until he couldn't hold it anymore.***Asher said frustratedly, “Why didn't the author mention me in the synopsis?! Am I not eligible to be with Abigail?!”Owen added calmly, “You're not alone, my friend. I even entered the scene after 60 chapters.”

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.”