Back to the Past to Become a Fishing King - Chapter 5, Order 1

Julian Ford is Scarlett Shaw's boyfriend's older brother. He is an unattainable presence.Scarlett is interested in money and looks, not people, yet she gradually loses control.Only he tramples on her, manipulating her at will.Everyone mocks Scarlett, saying she's overestimating herself, shamelessly attempting to climb high.Later—Someone sees the man pressing Scarlett into a corner, his eyes bloodshot, kneeling on one knee, “Scarlett, marry me, I beg you.”

What if you woke up one morning and remembered all 999 of your past lives?

Chae Woojin, an actor who will shine brighter than the stars. A story about his journey towards his dreams!

The Demon Empire in the universe was reborn and came back! Enemies should kneel down in front of him! Beauties should lie down in front of him!

“I am a demon. I enslave gods and immortals! If you don’t succumb to me, I will convince you by force!”–Ye Feng!

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.”