The Artist Who Paints Dungeon - Chapter 68

For half of his life, Qin Qing has been fighting in the entertainment circle. He gained fame and fortune but his body also collapsed.

He was reborn and returned to the age of 18. He just wants to stay away from scumbags, earn some money, read books, enter university, and be a healthy and happy ordinary person.

Who would have thought that not even two months of being an ordinary person he was caught by a film emperor.

……

Qin Qing: Carefully work. Work hard to earn money.

Film Emperor: Do what work. Give you a newly acquired company.

Qin Qing: ……

Qin Qing: Scheming? deceiving people? once again?

Film Emperor: My person, who dares move you?

Qin Qing: ???

Qin Qing: Save money to buy a house.

Film Emperor: Would you like a duplex with a 500 ft rooftop garden? Or river view villa?

Qin Qing: ……

Qin Qing: Carefully study. take the college entrance exam.

Film Emperor: in those days, In the whole city, i was ranked in the top 100 in the college entrance exam. what question is hard, I will teach you.

Qin Qing: I’m only eighteen!

Film emperor: I know. the problem of age difference, I will overcome it myself.

Qin Qing: ……

—-

Su Zhihe was very pleased with his new small assistant, he looked pleasing to the eye and was good everywhere.

Since he liked it a lot, Su Zhihe decided to let his iron tree bloom*. Eighteen years was not considered young , the age difference of a few years was just right.

Not human?

He can be a dog to chase his boyfriend.

- Description from Novelupdates

Her rebirth gave her a second chance at life. She was back with a vengeance and wanted to make those that had harmed her pay. But to those that helped her, she wanted to repay them. Her evil stepmother? She would slowly pull out her claws, one by one. Her evil stepsister? She would crush her pride. She thought that by getting her revenge for her past life, she would be happy in this life. However, she never would have thought that danger would chance upon her time and time again. The hatred from her clan and whether their bloodline would continue to exist, lay solely on her shoulders. Luckily, on this thorny path, someone had always been protecting her. “Third Prince, have you ever regretted being with me?” That person laughed lightly and peered at her with a loving yet weary look, “As long as I am together with you, I have no regrets.”

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.”