MTL - The Strong, The Few, True Cultivators on Campus - Chapter 1822 extraordinary

After just recently attaining the trophy for emperor of the silver screen, Chu Yan dies in a traffic accident and is rebirthed into a period millennium years later.

Floating cars occupy the skies, and everyone owns virtual glasses. Culture explosion! Entertainment explosion!

Yet, in such a glorious and brilliant entertainment world, Chu Yan was astonished to discover that——all these people didn’t know how to act!!!

Simulation of moods through artificial intelligence? Special effects production replacing acting skills?

Becoming an actor simply by just understanding AI script? The era is progressing, but acting skills have retrogressed.

Reporter: Chu Yan, what is your opinion regarding the scandal this time about you already being married?

Chu Yan: …Please inform me, exactly who is my spouse?!

Rebirth of the emperor of the silver screen into a third-tier star: shooting movies, becoming popular, winning awards, and ascending to the peak, and setting off a surging tide to the apex of the entertainment circle!

As for who his partner was——

He Baishen: Hello, my surname is Yi, you may call me Yi Ming (Anonymous).

- Description from Novelupdates

In his past incarnation, Lu Xuan was the youngest Celestial Lord that the universe has ever seen!
An accidental rebirth brought him back to a thousand years before, where the Earth had just begun its spiritual reawakening. When he stepped onto the way of cultivation for a second time, he swore to rewrite all injustices suffered in his past life, and defeat all enemies that dare stand in his way!
Let invincibility be his cultivation and the path he treads. In this life, it is his destiny to be invincible!

A story about a weak, small larva with a human soul, who travels all the way to become the ruler of the stars.

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.”