NOVEL'S EXTRA: I Will Die at the Peak - Chapter 19: Dance

I am the sword.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, no one dares take ten steps.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, no one can take ten steps.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, ten steps? Not possible!
I am the sword, the sword is me,
On the path towards heaven, each shall wield their own.

In the novels, all kinds supporting male leads are not only handsome but also talented. However, the existence of the female lead’s halo makes them lose their lives and properties!

In order to change this situation, male supporting role rescue plan officially starts.Gu Jinmi was inadvertently selected by the system. However, for her own happy future, she will work hard.

(There’s another novel with the same name but different author. The story is different too.)

- Description from Novelupdates

In a world entrenched by monsters filled with myriad factions, state disputes run wild. Amid these troubling times, martial arts have come to prominence and prosper.

Xu Ning transmigrates to this world with a Martial Arts Panel and becomes an ordinary villager. He only has one goal in mind: to become a master of martial arts.

Spend three energy points to level up Gale Knife Technique? Yes/no

Yes! Hell yes!

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.”