LEVEL 0 IMMORTAL - Chapter 43: The Vision of The Past

[You have been chosen as a Lord of the Intergalactic Lord Project.] [Your reward: A floating island to call your own.] [Your mission: Build your kingdom, summon legendary allies, and dominate the worlds!] [Your advantage: An SSS-grade Ultimate Gacha System.] Atlas Blackthorn, the newly chosen Lord of a floating island, wields the power to summon legendary warriors, powerful artifacts, and, of course, waifus. With boundless ambition and the Ultimate Gacha System at his side, Atlas sets out to become the strongest Lord in all worlds. How far will his ambition take him?

Her first encounter with Qin Sijue is an unexpected one. While trying to hide from her pursuers, she accidentally barges into his changing room. Yet, their paths crosses again fatefully—after a fake marriage, she legally becomes his bride. She imagines that they will only interact before the agreement ends, after which they would have nothing to do with each other. However, Qin Sijue comes over with two red booklets—their wedding certificate. “Take them for an appraisal and see if they’re real”.

Wei Yuewu is the unloved daughter of the powerful Marquis Hua Yang.

On her way back to the capital city to marry her fiancé, she becomes the target of a ruthless assassination led by her fiancé, Marquis Jing Yuan.

With the help of the Prince of Yan State, she narrowly escapes from one disaster after another and returns to the capital.

Determined to avenge her enemies and unravel the mystery surrounding her engagement with Marquis Jing Yuan as well as the death of her mother, Wei Yuewu makes a deal with the Prince of Yan State.

However, just as she has triumphed over all her enemies and is about to reach the acme of her life, she deliberately destroys her own future and becomes an exile of her own…

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.”