Rebirth in Showbiz: How to Win the Showbiz Emperor's Heart? - Chapter 17: Reckless Youth

In the aftermath of a tragic incident, the soul of Zhang Fei was transmigrated into a sacred body in a world of cultivation. Joined by the consciousness of an ancient cultivator, Zhang Fei must find a way to survive in this deadly world of beast demons and immortal cultivators.

After accidentally falling, she actually finds herself bound to a Second Female Lead Counter Attacking System!

This is a Classic Love story, cute and sweet like an overripe apple with a little bit of sour ^^

This is Male’s lead! its DanMei or BoysLove or BL.

A cute love story between a Powerful, Fierce, Magnificent Crown Prince to a very weakly Hua Bai Ying, a young, sweet, sixteen y.o Hua BaiYing, a young man who almost can’t do anything, even always gets in trouble and hurt himself,

While the Crown Prince is known to be so powerful, strongest more than the force of the River, the mountain, or even the sky, his hobby was to cut enemy’s heads and slash and kill without mercy, but his life turns to soft and has to surrender to beautiful, gentle, delicate, HuaBaiYing,

he’s a big pervert, who likes to touch BaiYing here and there as he only belongs to him, only his! Who dares to touch him, you want to die?!

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.”