I Can Infinitely Synthesize Transcendent Genes - Chapter 107 - : (99) The Victor’s Treatment (Seeking monthly tickets, recommendations, and subscriptions)_2

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.”

I became a heroine who dies during the protagonist’s awakening event.

when the most beautiful and popular girl of the whole campus offered Adam Eden, a certified loner the once in a lifetime offer to be the photographer and manager of her Only Fans account and also receive a percentage of her earnings, he was rightfully suspicious.However, in a desperate attempt to get some easy money, he went against his better judgement and accepted her deal.This decision would not only change his life, but would mark the beginning of his journey to Conquer every girl he's ever wanted–––––––––––––––––––––––––Every character in this book is 18 or olderNo netorase, some Netori (MC does the stealing not the crying)

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.”