Great! I'm surrounded by villains! - Chapter 13 - : Wild Dream

Ji Qingqing was at the end of her rope. When she was on the brink of wretched poverty, she received a system. The system told her; Lu Lixing came from a family that was rolling in money, but he was coming to the end of his allotted lifespan. If she married him, she would gain his enormous inheritance.

Lu Lixing was seriously ill. Just as he was about to die, he gained a system. The system told him: Ji Qingqing was young and beautiful. She was rich in vitality. If he married her, he could continue living.

Ji Qingqing happily came to Lu Lixing’s sickbed.

And then, Lu Lixing woke up.

***

Lu Lixing’s friends discovered that after Lu Lixing woke up, not only did this person that had always kept his distance from women gotten married, he spent every day being super clingy towards his wife.

Young Lu, can you be a little less embarrassing and act your age? Will you die if you take one step away from your wife?

Lu Lixing clutched his chest. His little heart had almost stopped beating because Ji Qingqing had left him for half an hour. He weakly waved his hand. He couldn’t be separated from her, not for the rest of his life. She was his life.

Hello, everyone. My name is Shen JianGuo. I’m a night school teacher. I mainly teach the subjects of (Marxist) philosophy and ethics. I occasionally review new policies and measures for the students. I never see my colleagues and students during the day. The training institute classrooms are all abandoned schools, hospitals, or houses. The bus number is 444 and it always appears in front of my door at 12 midnight and disappears before 5am.

What? You say I met a ghost? Impossible. As a staunch scientific materialist, I don’t believe ghosts exist in this world.

But recently I’ve had an issue to raise. Can the training institute bring the class time up a little bit? Wouldn’t it be good to start around 8pm? Though I fear nothing on earth or in the heavens, I’m afraid of going bald.

- Description from Novelupdates

“Come not between the Dragon and his Wrath.” — William Shakespeare The year was 2140, and Earth was nothing but a distant memory. Humanity now drifted through the galaxies aboard colossal ARKs, massive skyships that served as the last bastions of civilization. Yet, these ARKs were more than just floating cities; they were humanity’s last containers, preserving what remained of their species. A century before Earth’s final collapse, humanity discovered a gateway to a realm known as Eternia — a fantastical world straight out of myth and legend. Reaching this realm required more than just advanced technology; it demanded a complete departure from the physical body and entry into a mysterious process known as the Dream Weave. In the present day, Cloud lived aboard ARK NO. 427, where he had been training from a young age to step into the Dream Weave. He was a standout among his peers, excelling in every tasks that came his way. Everything seemed to be on track for him — until the pivotal day of the Class Selection process.

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.”