I Shall Be Everlasting In the World of Immortals - Chapter 5: Counterattack in Chaos

Somehow, the protagonist Kim Jin possessed a rich pushover extra in a novel who was exploited by the villainess and then met their demise together.But there’s no way Kim Jin would let that happen! He immediately defeated the villainess and locked her away. After that, the only thing left was to steadily enjoy life in this world while investing and extracting profits using his knowledge.But why… the more he punished her, it seemed that the villainess he had captured began to cling to him too much?

This is the story of a smart and beautiful young lady Yuan, who step by step conquered Chang’an’s number one golden bachelor, and make him to go from “totally ignore” to “punching his own face every day”.

Yuan Ci Xian dreamed that she was given death by the old emperor many years later and became a bridge stone.

Waking up and remembering the fear of being under the sole of feet of others, she was determined to find a backer.

After being pointed out by a certain advisor to “cater to other people’s preference”, Yuan Ci Xian picked up the brush and wrote a love poem for the future Imperial Teacher to show her infatuation.

When Lu Shiqing saw the poem, he vomited three liters of blood, and angrily rushed into the boudoir of Yuan Mansion.

He taught her to cater to other people’s preference, but she actually thought he like poetry?

Obviously what he like is…!

- Description from Novelupdates

A minus’ hand that fails every singer he put his hands on, Kang Yoon.

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.”