She Only Cares About Cultivation - Chapter 17: [0] Cook from the 90s 17

Su Chen, a doctor from a mountain village, treated a patient and was rewarded with a stunning wife! He hit the jackpot with this one!

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

Son of a bitch! I just finished this godawful fantasy novel, and now I'm knee-deep in it – as David, the disgraced son of the Solarian Empire's top general! Talk about some twisted cosmic joke. But hold on a damn minute... maybe this isn't all bad. Armed with the knowledge of that trashy plot, I can become the ultimate shadow player, an overlord perhaps. Screw the damsel-in-distress harem too – it's time to pull the strings and become the real power behind the throne. This isekai might be a steaming pile, but I'm rewriting the ending with a little more... Debauchery (wink wink).

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.”

At the end of the story, I found myself in the body of a hidden villain, betraying the heroines. Since I’m not particularly concerned about the end of the world, I’m calmly waiting for the finale… “You’re the only one who truly appreciated my painting of the boa.” “When I make plans to meet you at four, my heart starts racing at three... is this what they call being tamed?” For some reason, the heroines are starting to take an interest in me.