Mr. CEO Loves The Devilish Beauty - Chapter 235 - Strength & Sensibility

“Devouring Lifespan to grow stronger!!”When Ricky Stormwind—a washed-up office worker—drank himself to death, he expected eternal nothingness. Instead, he awoke in a new world… as a mosquito.Weak as an ant. Fragile as a piece of paper. Prey to everything.But this world is no ordinary one. Magic, monsters, and powerful beings dominate the land, with ruthless forces waging war for supremacy. And Ricky? He possesses a terrifying ability—he can drain lifespan from any living creature and use it to evolve.A single bite can grant him hours. A feast?..... Years!!Now, in a forest filled with predators and beside a village on the brink of destruction, Ricky must climb the evolutionary ladder—from insignificant pest to a calamity that could devour the world itself.But when his first real meal triggers a mass sacrifice, the world mistakes him for a rising Demon Lord. Bounties are placed on his head. Armies march to hunt him down. And lurking in the shadows, a forbidden power calls to him, promising a path beyond mere survival—one that could reshape reality itself.In a world where everything is prey to something greater, something horrendous… he will rise to become the apex.

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.”

When I entered for the Film Academy, the examiner arranged a crying scene for me. I pinched my thighs blue but still no tears came out, but now, oh.

Chen You held a cigarette with his mouth, give me ten seconds, I can cry like a dog, a dead dog.

444: Film Emperor, it’s time to go to the next set.

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