Everyone is Young Except for Me - Chapter 329

The beauty and the taboo existing together.Unattainable and unacceptable.An existence only to be admired from afar.A hero of legends but a also a girl of tragedy.Shining like a star in the sky, all alone, forever…-But that’s too sad isn’t it?Our MC, an ordinary middle aged man, is an author that wrote books and after pouring 2 years of hard work in a book, his hardwork finally bore fruit as his book got the second prize in the regional awards.A fruit that he couldn't eat.Why?Because he along with hard work, he also poured his piss somewhere he shouldn't and died.Exactly how?Read the prologue, and you will find out~But of course, that's only the start, as the next time he woke up...He was in another world.

This is the story of Long Yi, who was killed because he took revenge for the girl he loved. Before he dies, a strange lightning carries his soul into a different realm. How will he live, when the first thing he noticed upon arrival is that, the man whose body he possessed is raping the country’s princess?

- Description from Novelupdates

Zhang Yang, the office drone, spent his days slacking off with the campus beauty and his nights watching his sister-in-law practice leg lifts. His girlfriend Xiao Man watched him every day, falling deep in thought... Until one day, while straddling Zhang Yang, she unleashed a soul-searching interrogation, “Why did the dean bow to you? Why did the richest man gift you a villa? Why did the tattoo-covered big brother kneel before you, begging you to take his wife?”

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.”