It’s Lonely To Be Invincible - Chapter 1121

To pass as an imperial concubine, one must be professional.

Actually, the profession of an imperial concubine is pretty good. The emperor will accompany you in eating and drinking, and even pay you for it. What’s not good about that?

- Description from Novelupdates

The female protagonist crossed over to become the Venerable Woman Kingdom’s Crown Princess. That’s right, that’s right, holding power and authority and handsome men!

What? She’s has the body constitution of trash and is unable to practice martial arts?

Having finally set her eyes on a good looking man, he turned out to be a snow wolf. Isn’t that just so sad and depressing….. Having captured a good looking man, a certain woman laughed sinisterly. “Remember this. You are already mine, so you have to remain chaste for me. If you do not obey, I will then reject the goods.”

The handsome looking man was stunned with his mouth agape. “You….. You’ve gotten it completely backwards!”

- Description from Novelupdates

I have studied the history and tales of the gods all my life and one of all the gods the one I hated the most was Zeus.So it was just my luck that I was reborn as that bastard.

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.”