Merchant Crab - Chapter 115: A Skeleton Party

Beatrice Da Ville was supposed to be the villainess. A spoiled, arrogant noblewoman who terrorized the heroine, only to be executed for her crimes. At least, that’s how the story was supposed to go.But when a 21st-century woman wakes up in Beatrice’s body, she has zero intention of following the original plot. Execution? Betrayal? A bloody downfall? Absolutely not. She just wants to keep her head down, avoid drama, and live a long, peaceful life.Unfortunately, her unbothered attitude, modern slang, and sheer survival instincts keep catching the attention of all the wrong people. The nobles think she’s a genius, the royal family is amused, and worst of all—the cold Crown Prince Francois Montague, who was supposed to fall for the heroine, won’t stop watching her.Meanwhile, the original heroine, Johanna Lockhart, starts to realize that her perfect fairytale is slipping away. The world that once adored her now whispers about Beatrice instead. And the more she loses, the more dangerous she becomes.With a fate that refuses to let her go, a jealous heroine turning villainous, and an infuriatingly handsome prince who definitely didn’t love her in the original story, Beatrice has one goal.Survive. Thrive. And absolutely, under no circumstances, follow the script.

“You really want me to save people?”

Looking at the shivering victim in front of him,

Look at the [Owl’s Head Wire], [The Murderer’s Gift], [Universal Anesthetic], [Invisible Potion] in the item column…

Shiraishi touched the hideous mask on his face and fell into deep thought.

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“The Salary Thief in the Distillery”

“What does the vest do to me have anything to do with it?”

“There are limits to being a human being, I choose to be a cat…”

The magic version of Conan

- Description from novelbuddy

A young man sat on a chair and looked out at the ocean. With one wisp of Spirit Qi, he could point anywhere on this vast and expansive world, pointing at any place that didn’t look right.

Someone once became the last one to wield a knife that could decapitate huge dragons and bathed in dragons’ blood. Someone once loved treating others to chicken soup, so he kept nine phoenixes in his backyard.

Someone once sat lazily on the top of mountains as his words flooded river banks, and his qi could hold a million soldiers back. Someone once moved mountains and shifted hills with just one brush, his paintings so captivating it could enchant immortals and deities.

That year, the warmth of spring made the flowers bloom. They were merely an ordinary butcher, a bookworm, a chicken farmer and a poor artist. This is the story of how a Low Level Martial World Continent was transformed into the Ultimate Fantasy Universe.

- Description from Qidian

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.”