A Slave To My Vengeful Lover - Chapter 96 - 100% She Is Loving Me...

Jiang Su transmigrated.

He transmigrated into a BL harem novel as the novel’s main character, jianghu’s number one beauty, who bewitches the masses with just his face, then is subjected to shame, humiliation, and infamy at the end.

To prevent this from happening, Jiang Su diligently practiced his swordsmanship. But then he suddenly realized…If he is still single when the original storyline ends, he will be forced to return to his original world.

Jiang Su: ……

- Description from Novelupdates

[‘Lightning Magic Primer’ has been consumed. Your understanding is very high.]

[The 2nd Circle magic ‘Lightning Bolt’ has been acquired.]

The unprecedented magician who will eat all the magic books of the world has appeared.

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In the interstellar era, the starry sky group came, and human beings stepped into the starry sky, opened the door of psionic energy, and stepped into practice.

Jiang Chen pushed open the door of psionic energy, but he felt that there was something wrong with pushing it open…

Your body has awakened the [Toughness] skill, which is strong and resilient.

Your bones awakened [hard], the opponent stabbed your body with a sword, and the long sword was broken by the bones.

Your hair has awakened [fork], and the sword qi has been divided into thousands, and the net is spread.

Your stomach digested a panacea, awakening [digestion], endless spiritual energy, and instant digestion.

Until one day…you awakened the [Perpetual Motion Machine], the heart kept going, and the power kept going.

Years later, you realize in a trance that your body is already on par with gods.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”