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... d down the wide road.


There was a lingering concern in his eyes that he just could not wipe off when he saw the streets filled with traffic.


Everywhere he looked, he saw skyscrapers, winding tunnels, and highways all paved with transparent tiles that made him feel like he was living in a sci-fi movie. The surrounding buildings were all speckless and from time to time, maglev trains would roar past the tracks that seemed to connect to every part of the city, from one e ...

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Despite having found Mingxi, the Zhao family continued to favor the fake daughter, saying that Mingxi was not as kind nor as graceful as Zhao Yuan.

Mingxi didn’t mind. She continued to work hard to please her family although they would always say that she was trying to rob their attention away from Zhao Yuan.

Until she died because of a terminal illness.

It was then that she realized that Zhao Yuan was the actual lady blessed by luck while she was merely this novel’s evil supporting character with a tragic ending.

Zhao Mingxi who was given a second chance at life was bitterly disappointed. She no longer cared about her family. Screw her family and her fiancé. She immediately packed her bags and left home, off to complete the task given by the system named ‘Becoming Friends With Fashionable and Valuable Characters’.

After she left, the house suddenly became cold and quiet.

By right they should feel at ease, but–

Her parents, her indifferent elder brother, her brash younger brother, Chen Liyao who was used to her pursuits were all successively feeling… unused to it?

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What happens when one eats Death?

Personally, I don’t really know. What I do know is merely one thing.

I’m hungry.

Therefore, I’ll take the heads of these guys and deliver them to my superiors.

Surely, I’ll be able to eat delicious food.

Come, if preparations are in order, we depart.

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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.”