A Naive Short-tempered Girl - Chapter 887

How long can one ignore the voices in their head?Nine years. To Mark, that was the limit.For the majority of his life, Mark White has been fighting a constant battle for his sanity. The voices in his head pushed him toward madness one whisper at a time, and the music he used to ward against them was gradually losing its effects.As his mental state slowly deteriorated, Mark spent more of his time working on a game he had been developing and lamenting his lack of romantic experience.One night, the voices dealt him a powerful blow, bringing their battle to an end. To his surprise, Mark won the battle, but that came at a great cost.The voices might have disappeared, but a visual hallucination arrived to replace them, taking the form of a character from his game: Maids VS Apocalypse. Little did he know that the real apocalypse was already coming for him.

This is a story of Xia An, a transmigrator from the end of the world, who transmigrates into the body of a cannon fodder who was the mother of the villain.

- Description from Wattpad

Young genius Ren Zhong, suffering from a terminal illness, chooses the human cryonics project. Upon awakening, he finds himself in a desolate wilderness, beneath a gigantic blue sun and a duo of silver-white moons. On this unfamiliar planet, relying on the resurrection to rewind time and accumulate experience, Ren Zhong is determined to become a warrior. After experiencing betrayal, being wanted, and judged, he resolves to rebel against this unjust world and establish a new world order through war.Compress infinite time into a moment; anything can happen.Rising from insignificance, walking the seams of time, reversing billions of years of enslavement.This is the story of an immortal man and his comrades breaking the shackles of fate.

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.”