Doomsday: I Become Invincible By Picking Up - Chapter 13

One system connects two worlds. Wu Ye, a timid and unambitious rich second-generation, was suddenly thrown into an apocalyptic world of zombies, equipped with a strong golden finger. To flee, or not to flee?

Qin Wuhua, a cold-faced special forces soldier, with his comrades betrayed by his superiors, showed him one night of “good will.”

To eat, eat, or eat? (Ye: What about the other options we talked about?! Qin: Be good. Ye: …..)

- Description from Novelupdates

Hypnosis, Time Stop, Eyes of Lust...Just why do I have these skills?!After almost dying, he was reborn as the demon king of lust.Since the world is against him, there was no reason for him to be a good person. Especially since the entire world was hunting him down in the first place.So he decided that he would destroy the world in his own way as the demon king.

He rescued her. It took him eight years to pamper her into the most beautiful woman in the city. Anyone who dared to lay a finger on her would die!

Little did he know, she had long set his sights on him. She considered him as her possession. Did someone look at her man? It didn’t matter if the person was a man or a woman. She’d torture them in the most horrible way possible! However, to her surprise…

“Are you done playing?” He forced her into a corner. That’s when she found out that he’d known all along…

Dear readers! Fresh green style, maybe you will like it more in .

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.”