Became a salted fish pretend heiress and handed over the system - Chapter 301 - 290: Mysterious Plane 45

Before rebirth, Xia Man had been wondering, when did Qu Zhen begin to hate her?

Was it when she foolishly followed behind her and constantly talked while eating? Or when she would always clumsily break the gifts she was given? So she started hating her?

Did she think such a person was not worthy of being her friend at all? Doesn’t deserve the sunshine?

Right! Sunshine or whatever, it can only be her Qu Zhen!

Xia Man always felt that the friendship between the two people was like Qu Zhen’s alms to herself, never equal.

Xia Man didn’t understand what Qu Zhen meant until she died.

“I thought I never missed it. Now I understand that I’ve never been right.”

Qu Zhen, in a sense, died by Xia Man’s hands, not from a zombie.

Qu Zhen, you could never have been right after doing something wrong. You should never fall in love with a person with a distorted personality.

After Xia Man was reborn, she only wanted one thing.

She wanted those who used her to hurt Qu Zhen to die rather than to live!

- Description from Novelupdates

When 18-year-old Chu Miao dies in a tragic car accident, her soul vanishes; but her body does not remain empty for long. A formidable warrior from an ancient era, the daughter of a renowned general, awakens in her place. Sent into the future by a prophecy, she finds herself in a world on the brink of destruction.With only a month before typhoons ravage the land, extreme weather shifts without warning, and terrifying mutations transform animals and plants into deadly threats. Worst of all, a horrifying virus spreads like wildfire, turning humans into flesh-eating zombies. Civilization crumbles and only the strongest survive.Though her new body lacks the powerful cultivation she once had, she still possesses an invaluable advantage; her ancient spatial ring. Filled with elixirs, weapons, demonic beast cores, and rare cultivation resources, it becomes her greatest tool for survival. But modern supplies are also essential, and she must act fast to stockpile resources before the apocalypse fully takes hold.As chaos reigns, she fights to protect her family and secure a foothold in this brutal new world. Along the way, she crosses paths with a mysterious and powerful man, one of the rare few who awaken supernatural abilities and is just as determined to survive. Together, they forge an unbreakable bond, battling both the relentless undead and the desperate survivors willing to kill for a chance to live.Armed with ancient wisdom and modern strategy, she refuses to bow to fate.In this new life, she will rise again—not as a lost soul from the past, but as a warrior destined to rule the apocalypse.

“If someone has to become the strongest, why can't it be me?”

An unfortunate young man, brought to another world by a meteor, voices his unwillingness with a defiant roar.

I just want to create a fantastical world that doesn't seem too unreal.

Pre-reading Reminder 1: If you think human nature can simply be divided into good or bad, proceed with caution.

Pre-reading Reminder 2: If you believe a sect is just a crowd of people flattering the protagonist, proceed with caution.

Pre-reading Reminder 3: If you think the whole world is a stage for the protagonist to show off, and all people are merely stepping stones for the protagonist, proceed with caution.

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

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.”