MTL - Sha Po Lang - Chapter 78 Worry

He was supposed to die in the academy dungeon.Instead, Earth’s greatest war hero opens his eyes as Velorum’s most hated student—the “villain” everyone expects to be executed by midterms.Swordsmen duel, mages burn, saints bless, tamers command beasts. He, unfortunately, practices the one art people fear most: necromancy. He doesn’t want a throne or revenge; after a lifetime of medals and funerals, he wants something scandalous for a villain—to live well. To laugh after curfew, to taste street food, to keep the friends who chose him alive.But the church wants a heretic, the crown wants a scapegoat, and the academy’s golden hero can’t explain why the “villain” keeps winning.Call him monster, call him traitor—he’ll carve out a life worth living, and smile while he does it.

One sunny day, Shen Jingwei, a Z-list actor, received an opportunity to attend an open-call audition the very next day.It was for the role of an antagonist in a new BL C-Drama, “Dance Of The Dragons”, which was adapted from a novel of the same title.He agreed to join the audition due to several factors, among which his manager's threat to jump off the 20th floor, his dire need for money, and also the fact that his rank in the film industry could not go any lower.One look at the panel of judges made him want to turn on his heel to leave, but it was all too late.Because who would expect the poor Z-List actor to meet his mortal enemy/ex-boyfriend, Yan Renzhong, the A-List Actor responsible for his decline long before he even learned how to fly?------------------“You and I... are playing a couple of lovers, who will go on to get married and have children with each other.”Shen Jingwei could sense blood coming up his throat.What was the point of saying it out loud, again?“Yes,” he forced himself to agree nonetheless.Yan Renzhong pinned him with a stare.“We have unresolved issues from the past. I hope you won't let them affect your and my performance in the drama. Act the professional you are supposed to be.”“...”“And don't call me 'Emperor Yan' anymore.”Yan Renzhong left after delivering one blow after another, not even waiting to see if Shen Jingwei succumbed to his injuries or not.What?Whattt?Whattttttttt?

Xia Mi found himself transported into a classic JRPG game, becoming a villager in a beginner's village.His biggest wish was to save money and marry a woman from a different race as his wife, live a peaceful and worry-free life, and eventually pass away peacefully.One day, the heroes defeated the Demon King.[Name: Xia Mi][Profession: Villager]New addition: [Profession: Successor to the Demon King]“Quickly take action, Demon King! Kill all the heroes! Restore the glory of the demon race!”Wait, did something go wrong here?In the beginner's village, where Xia Mi spent his days farming and serving as a passer-by, he suddenly had an identity panel.But he was just a villager in the beginner's village!“Where is the Demon King? Where is the Demon King?”News of the Demon King's emergence spread across the continent, and every hero who came here to defeat the Demon King could see a constant stream of monsters in the beginner's village, but never caught sight of the Demon King.A villager from the beginner's village: Demon King? I'm just a villager. I have no idea what it is.

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.”