The Fake Heiress Turns Out to Be a True Tycoon! - Chapter 4 - Top-Tier Elite Jennings Family

Crossing over to an independent urban world where martial arts and immortal law coexisted, the only thing Lin Shen could rely on was his clone’s golden finger.

“Clone cultivation, the host becomes stronger.”

“Clone [Pure Flame Body]: Flame attribute techniques cultivation speed +300%, Blazing Flame Palm, Melting Hand, Pure Flame Sword Skill… Any flame attribute techniques at your service. You can become a master in a day!”

“Clone [Natural Daoist Body]: cultivation speed +500%. All martial arts techniques can be understood at first glance, and will be integrated, crushing all geniuses!”

“Clone [Non-self Sword God]: Sword art technique power +200%, sword art technique cultivation speed +200%. No matter how strong you are, I will cut you down with one strike!”

…

“You never know how many clones are trying to cultivate behind the person you are talking to in front of you!”

“What does it have to do with me if my clone did it?”

“Don’t try to outnumber me cuz you can’t!”

Title: Trillionaire Student: The Art of Corporate WarfareGenre: Cyberpunk Corporate Drama / Tech RomanceSetting: Near-future Shanghai (2045) where blockchain dynasties and AI oligarchs dominate global finance.Protagonist:· Ye Chen: A 22-year-old financial prodigy with military-grade neural implants. Orphaned and self-made, he accidentally inherits trillion-yuan assets tied to a cryogenically preserved heiress.· Su Ning: A “frozen elite” heiress resurrected from cryostasis. Her trauma-encrypted mind holds the keys to her family's blockchain empire.Core Plot:When Ye decrypts suicidal patterns in Su's neural data, their forced partnership to upgrade her emotional firewall exposes:1. Corporate Espionage: Rival tech giants weaponize celebrity scandals as NFT commodities.2. Family Conspiracy: Su's mother audits her memories like hostile mergers.3. Hidden Protocol: A blockchain ledger tracking physical intimacy as corporate liability.Key Westernized Elements:· Boardroom duels in holographic Hunger Games-style shareholder arenas· Romance through shared neural hacking of trauma encryption· Memetic warfare where viral tweets manipulate stock marketsThemes:· Capitalism 2.0 (emotions as crypto assets, SEC-regulated marriage contracts)· Cybernetic identity (childhood trauma rebuilt as AI firewalls)· East-West fusion (Tang poetry as quantum encryption keys)Cultural Bridges:· “Black Swan Fund” → “Quantum Contingency Fund”· Neural interface battles styled as The Matrix meets Game of Thrones· Food metaphors: Xiaolongbao dumplings as encrypted data carriers

Gripes have their origins and debts have their creditors. We haven’t crossed each other in days past or present, nor formed any grudges. I am but duty-bound to carry this out, so apologies in advance!

In his past life, Yang Chen was a gentle person who was oppressed for his whole life.

Now that he’s reborn, he chose to become an executioner and severs ties and grudges with his executioner’s blade, killing all that climb onto the Immortal Executioner’s Platform!

Heads will roll! Humans’ in the human realm, demons’ in the demon realm, devils’ in the devil realm and immortals’ in the immortal realm!

- Description from novelupdates

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.”