MTL - Interstellar Fairy Tale - Chapter 196

Yin BiYue has made the worst purchase ever. After transmigrating countless times into the bodies of canon fodder villains, he buys a ‘Fiend Halo’ from the Rebirth Company, supposedly the best aid for an up and coming final BOSS!

Back in 1998, an ordinary person who has been through, tired, cried, and fought, hopes to run down-to-earth and keep up with the trend of the times.

- Description from novelbuddy

When Lu Huang woke up as Lidia—the villainess of a cringe-worthy romance novel—she was determined not to let the story play out like the dumpster fire it was written to be. Nope. Dying at the hands of the Alpha King after being falsely accused, publicly humiliated, and manipulated into madness? Yeah, that’s not on her to-do list.Armed with a sharp tongue that could flay egos, the street smarts of a broke college grad, and the petty audacity of someone with nothing left to lose, Lidia decides she was ripping up the script. Holier-than-thou saintesses? Screw ’em. Self-righteous alphas? They can eat dirt. If this world insists on casting her as the villain, she’s going to own it—on her terms.One chaotic scheme at a time, Lidia’s ready to rewrite her fate—and if she has to break a few rules (and maybe some noses) to do it, so be it. Villainesses don’t play nice, and Lidia is just getting started.

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.”