The Beautiful Time With You - Chapter 982

What comes to your mind when you hear the word 'Villain'? Evil, cruel, cunning? So true.

But what if the main character in this novel is reincarnated as a villain? Can he kill the protagonist who has endless plot armor?

Zhou Yuan had to accept the fact that he had reincarnated into the world of the cultivation novels he had read in his previous life.

He realized that his identity was extraordinary.

Father is a CEO and Mayor, Mother is the Chairman of a famous company, and Grandfather is a national hero.

Zhou Yuan was excited, but that all changed when he realized that his role was that of the villain.

“Shit, am I going to die? No, then I will become the villain who rules the world!”

Not being reckless, Zhou Yuan got help from the system.

[Ding, you got a starter gift pack]

[Congratulations, you got a high-level cultivation talent]

[Congratulations, your luck increased +20]

[Congratulations, you got a high-level medical technique]

Rael, once a teenager crippled by social anxiety, is reincarnated 1,553 years into the future after reading a book about Milford, the legendary God of Machima—a man who commanded armies of Steelborn, Machnoids, and Autonoms across the universe. Gifted with the Machima Bloodline and guided by Dominica, the World Domination System, Rael quickly rises to become the strongest World Conqueror.He first saw them on the book’s cover—steel women with lifelike faces, beasts with razor limbs, and looming above them all, a god in robes with a mechanical hand raised high. Coiled over him were a gigantic centipede and serpent of metal, guardians of his legend. Now, deep in a junkyard centuries later, Rael forges his own path. His first creation: an unbreakable fortress born in the dirt, a hulking Steelborn Tortoise with a mind sharper than any AI—crafted by Rael’s divine talent. From admiring Milford and wishing to be like him, Rael now marches forward to leave his own mark on the universe.Join him as he rises in rank across his world—and beyond.

When powerless, unfavoured Princess Soleia was arranged to marry the newly titled Duke Orion Elsher, she assumed they would find love eventually.Who knew that her father would send off her husband mere hours later to fight a war?Soleia was left alone to deal with an impoverished fief, a crumbling estate, and spiteful, vindictive relatives of the Duke who all wished to see her gone.She couldn’t leave― there was nowhere else to go. Soleia desperately wanted her husband to return so he could offer her a helping hand. However, when he did, he returned with Elowyn, a woman he claimed was his true love.A woman hellbent on taking her place as the rightful Duchess, no matter what she had to do to get Soleia out of the way.Mistreated, misunderstood, and miserable, Soleia was eventually thrown out of the estate she helped build.Fortunately, when one door closes, another one opens. Unknown to Soleia, a man more powerful than her husband had been watching her, waiting for the right time to snatch her into his gilded cage. Duke Elsher had been foolish to let go― but the crown prince of Raxuvia wouldn’t make the same mistake.***Prequel to Stolen by the Rebel King.

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.”