Worldwide Apocalypse: Starting With Max-Level Skills - Chapter 5: Level 8 Elite Giant Zombie!

Lucas Voss was a normal adult in his late twenties.He doesn't know how or why but he got transmigrated as an extra inside of the novel he read till 5th volume.The problem for Lucas was that his life was in danger as soon as he entered the novel.Why?Because Lucas was transmigrated as the 4th Prince who is an extra and was about to die with an Illness that couldn't be cured.Not only that novel he transmigrated into was 'Cold-Blooded Emperor Rules.'The protagonist of that novel killed every member of the royal palace to become emperor of the empire.How will Lucas survive?Will he die like the extra that he is? or will he fight against fate to survive in this cold-blooded novel and become more than an extra?The only way to know is it read this novel!

Lan Xuan smiled gently as she said, “My dear sister, who told you to obstruct my path? Your man belongs to me, your dowry belongs to me, your everything, belongs to me.”

Li Yu transmigrated to a world of the cultivation and martial arts. He became the head disciple of a low-ranking sect.

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.”