There Will Always Be Protagonists With Delusions of Starting a Harem - Chapter 60

That night, she shed off the image of a young maiden’s immaturity, forming a ripple in the deepest parts of the Cold Palace…

That day, she kneeled before him begging for mercy. She didn’t want anything. She only wanted to leave the palace and become an ordinary girl….

A bunch of elegant and good looking heavenly princes. A lowly palace maid with a mind as calm as still water.

If they were to meet, would it be an encounter like dewdrops and the autumn wind or would it be a lament of a country…

- Description from Novelupdates

On the Star Network there is a gourmet food broadcast, where all you can see are a pair of hands. However each dish that this broadcast comes out with is earthshakingly delicious. What’s more, the broadcast anchor’s voice is simply perfect!

Even though Gu Yunxi was created from the accumulation of the resentment of souls, there was not a bit of ruthlessness nor cruelty in his nature, only a desire to cultivate. Just as he achieved his human form, he was sent to reincarnate. Under the control of Heaven, he experienced life after life of suffering, dying a terrible death every single time. After thousands of reincarnations, thousands of terrible deaths, he finally accumulated enough power to escape from the Laws of Heaven. He swore to get revenge on this blind Heaven’s Law that’s unable to differentiate good from evil.

So what if it’s the Heavens? He will stir up the rights and wrong, the good and evil!

You want me to accept this life and die, but I just won’t! I want to live, to rebel against the heavens, to reverse this joke of a destiny!

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”