God-tier Farm - Chapter 3547 - Fear and trepidation (2)

Ye Zhen, a female Ph.D. in the Department of Mathematics of Huada University, changed her career to enter the entertainment industry in order to investigate the death of her birth father, Film Emperor Ye Yi. During her interview, she accidentally made CEO Rong Cheng Jue lose face in public. Yet Rong Cheng Jue, unlike what was to be expected, didn’t take old grudges into account and let Ye Zhen join his company. When everyone thought Ye Zhen would become Rong Cheng Jue’s personal secretary, she actually joined the entertainment department. After several twists and turns, Ye Zhen became an errand reporter for Rongcheng Entertainment’s “Treasures of Great Tang”.

Her colleagues’ bullying towards her, the pressure of changing career, and the many obstacles in her investigation all left her confused. Under Rong Cheng Jue’s silent guardianship, she didn’t forget her original purpose, overcame every obstacle, and eventually became an ace producer.

Ye Zhen and Rong Cheng Jue shared a common belief : no matter how bleak the hope is, how thorny and dark is the road ahead, they had only one thought in their hearts: to uncover the truth, and therefore bring peace to the soul of the Film Emperor Ye Yi.

- Description from Novelupdates

BLURB> He was reborn by mistake. Raised with purpose. Loved by a god. Worshipped by monsters. And the galaxy doesn’t stand a fucking chance.Irvine’s soul took one wrong turn through the wheel of karma and woke up in a body grown by an intergalactic hivemind goddess with boundary issues and galaxy-sized ambition. Now he’s the golden child of a psychic swarm that feeds on control and burns whole worlds for affection.With Crystal at the helm, warriors like Kimchi, relic-weapons like Kiya, and a council of psionic horrors eager to call him king, Irvine must choose what kind of god he wants to be.Because when a hivemind learns to love......it doesn’t know when to stop.The universe will kneel—or get devoured trying.SYNOPSISIrvine didn’t ask to be reincarnated, but the cosmos had other plans. And it didn’t hand him a cheat code or a clean slate—just one random boon, selected by an uncaring divine roulette wheel.Good karma? Bad karma? Balanced as all fuck.Now he's reborn in the body of a psionically tuned alien hybrid, raised from psychic infancy by Crystal, the hivemind queen of a race so advanced they’ve abandoned individuality for shared omniscience. All except her baby boy.Irvine is the singularity inside the swarm, the first soul allowed to think, dream, and desire independently. Trained by warriors like Kimchi, advised by bio-symbiotes like Kiya, loved ferociously by hive sisters like Diane, and shadowed by powers ancient and unnamed, Irvine is both weapon and wielder, saint and sacrifice.But empires don’t run on hugs and handjobs. As Crystal expands her dominion—across star systems and sentient nebulae—Irvine must lead the charge through blood, fire, and psionic flame.His soul is still human. His body? Engineered for extinction. His heart? Not entirely his anymore.

The heavens and earth change when the blood phoenix descends.

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.”