The Strange Groom's Cursed Bride - Chapter 3: ALICE

When Jiang Ming woke up in a strange world, he learned he had obtained immortality. In the dangerous and ruthless world of cultivation, he was determined to carve his unique path. Taking advantage of his immortality, he vowed to learn forbidden skills that would normally eat away at the user’s life.

As he continued on his path, Jiang Ming realized that with his forbidden skills, he could become the strongest.

Jung Hyeonwoo who had no talent, no money and no luck. “Why do I see the information inside the game?” He started to see the things that are not supposed to show up since he got electrocuted by lightning.

Valens Kosthal was called a genius. A prodigy. Now he has to prove he remains one, even in another world.Valens is the youngest Life Archmagus the Empire has ever seen. His mastery over Resonance allows him to hear the frequencies of the world and correct them, healing even the deepest wounds. Yet he could do so much more, if only it weren't forbidden—the little he can practice must be done away from prying eyes.So when an ancient ritual promises to reveal the truth behind it all, he leaps at the chance. It leaves him alone in an unfamiliar world, deep in a dungeon crawling with rotten skeletons and towering beasts... and a System. One that grants him the secrets of Warmagic as easily as breathing.And Valens no longer needs to hold back....................Posting Schedule: Every day for the 1st month...................What to expect?- An Archmage Isekai story- Unique magic system - Third person limited POV with MC focus- Large scope, and numbers go brr- No harem .....

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.”