After Brushing Face At The Apocalypse’s Boss For 363 Days - Chapter 32

A lonely soul, which was placed under the care of the Lord Protector’s Manor, ended up having her lover stolen by the family’s eldest daughter and dying tragically the day before her wedding.

Somehow, she was reborn in the family as their 14-year-old first wife’s daughter, Ning Xueyan, with a startlingly familiar face.

Step by step, she will ruthlessly scheme to seek revenge as well as uncover the mystery of her tragic death.

Her former fiancee, the flirty crown prince and the bloodthirsty prince, will now bear witness to a vengeful Ning Xueyan becoming the peerless lady of her generation…

Join Lu Yin on an epic journey across the Universe, pursuing the truth and tragedy of his past. This is a world of science fantasy where the older generations step back and allow the young to take charge of affairs. Heart-wrenching separations, terrifying situations, all with comic relief that will leave you coming back for more. This is a world where the other characters actually matter, and are revisited frequently as their own lives unfold. Dotting Lu Yin’s path are monumental feats of kingdom-building and treacherous political situations where he must tread carefully if he wants to get to the truth of his history.

[Nakseong High School, the heads of 300 people exploded!] Lee Joon, an ordinary high school student.During the entrance ceremony, he was caught up in a strange phenomenon and died.[You have died.] [Restarting from checkpoint.] [Loading…] And then a message appeared before his eyes.『Welcome to Nakseong High School that is full of mysteries and secrets.Uncover the dark secrets hidden around the school, or fight against urban legends and myths to earn points and unlock special abilities.Then, gather companions and stop the resurrection of the demon king before you graduate.The world is in your hands.』

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.”