Life Of A Nobody - as a Villain - Chapter 2 Nobody’s Morning

Wang Tianxiao was reborn thirty years ago, the day before the eldest son was born.

It was more than 20 degrees below zero, and the wife shivered on the cold kang with her big belly and three-year-old daughter in her arms.

In the pot, there was no firewood to be seen, and the bottom of the water tank was solidly frozen.

What a difficult start.

New book group: 247718472

- Description from novelbuddy

The youngest Wiseman of the continent, Chu Tian, has traveled 30,000 years back in time to the age of antiquity due to an accident.

Here, you can see the past and present of the cosmic swarm, the origin of the war-mongering witch tribe, the rise of sea progeny, the birth of giant beasts...And...A world tree cultivation from scratch?...On her 18th birthday, Baiyi suddenly learns that her family is actually super-rich.After finally coming to terms with the reality and preparing to embrace a new life, another change occurs.The world is destroyed, the apocalypse arrives, and humans are given a lord qualification and randomly thrown into millions of worlds.Good news, her cheat finally arrives, and it's a seemingly powerful genetic weaving.Bad news, others have it too, and theirs seem even stronger.What else can be done?She can only be a support player trying to get by, relying on her cheat to do some farming.But why do her troops start to look so strange?...I just want to farm properly, so why is it my fault if intruders get taken down by insects/gardeners/crops!What Insect Queen, what original witch, it's all slander!I'm just an ordinary support lord!ps: Female protagonist, single, farming, dedicated to hybridizing all kinds of strange creaturespps: This is a male-oriented novel, if you have not read a male-oriented female protagonist novel before, I'm glad this will be your first.

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.”