Bigshot, Your Wife Is With Her Tarot Cards Again! - Chapter 99 - Youre a Reporter, Right?

Baek Yigang is a son of the Baek Clan, one of the seven great clans of Zhongyuan. Afflicted with the Taiyin Qi Blockage, he is cursed with a shortened lifespan and the inability to collect internal energy. He had been peacefully spending the rest of his days indoors when he was ambushed by a group of masked people. During the ambush, he lost his servant who was like a sister to him. Chased by the attackers, Baek Yigang escaped through a secret underground path. When he came across a blocked path, he decided he’d at least die fighting and picked up a rusted sword that was stuck in the ground…

The demon Sang Jiuchi woke up from a seal and found that he was bound to the Quick Transmigration system, and the characters he took over were all without exception, the worst villains.

Blackmailing the top streamer but ended up killing his own despicable tech genius…

The vicious true young master who framed the fake young master but suffered the consequences…

The murderous master who humiliated his apprentice but was killed…

The sinister mermaid who seduced the general and was slaughtered…

The hypocritical pope who deceived people and was burned at the stake…

- Description from Novelupdates

When Ye Mo suddenly woke up, he realized that everything around him seemed to have changed: He has been transmigrated into the modern Earth where spiritual energy is scarce. His pretty master from his former world was nowhere to be seen. Most importantly, he found himself in the body of a young man who has been abandoned by his clan for an embarrassing reason…

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.”