So You’re Such A Doctor Song - Chapter 33 - Station Head Feng, is Chi Yining really suitable?

Join Lu Yin on an epic journey across the Universe, pursuing the truth and tragedy of his past. This is a world of science fantasy where the older generations step back and allow the young to take charge of affairs. Heart-wrenching separations, terrifying situations, all with comic relief that will leave you coming back for more. This is a world where the other characters actually matter, and are revisited frequently as their own lives unfold. Dotting Lu Yin’s path are monumental feats of kingdom-building and treacherous political situations where he must tread carefully if he wants to get to the truth of his history.

In Victorian England, occult practitioners and the Nightmen Police, who hunted occult practitioners, were at odds and engaged in a fight to the death. Legend has it that one of the occult practitioners was a mysterious merchant who ran the world’s largest underground black market in the occult arts, offering a variety of rare treasures. Word says that the Nightmen have a newly appointed young detective whose decisive actions have solved many cases, and occult practitioners are terror-stricken hearing his name.

Duan FeiZhou: Good, both are me.

He transmigrated to this era because he accidentally clicked on an email titled “Congratulations on your million dollar inheritance” and confusingly agreed to join the Nightmen’s side to fight against the occult practitioners.

Who knew that the next day he would inherit a mysterious inheritance from his uncle – the owner of the world’s most prominent black market of secret arts underground trading… This was a bit awkward.

Duan FeiZhou decided to stay away from the strife to avoid falling off the horse and became a salted fish.

On the one hand, crazy black market customers hope that the black market will close down as soon as possible. On the other hand, the Nightmen are negatively idle, hoping that he is quickly fired. However, the more he rushed customers, the more the business of the black market became red hot. The more negativity, the more he was promoted in the Nightmen.

Seeing that the double-sided was becoming a bigger hassle, he was afraid his mask would fall off..

The Scotland Yard’s NIghtmen Leader, code name Z, has white hair, blind eyes, mechanical prosthetics, metal spine, all from war damage; his hobby is hand-rolling cigars, and if he can not save the hostages, he will shoot them together with the criminals. His highest ideal in life is to exterminate all the occult practitioners in the world.

He thought he had a heart of gold with a painful past, but step by step, he was impressed and conquered by the new young Nightman… He also reformed him.

Until one day, he learned that the young man who tugged at his heartstrings was his lifelong enemy – the owner of the world’s largest underground black market for secret arts.

Z: Oh well.

- Description from Novelupdates

At 22 years of age, Shen Qian Ling won his first Best Male Lead award.

Afterwards just as he, holding the award, was moved to tears, a piece of the ceiling fell down loudly, and accurately hit his head without mistake.

And afterwards he just…..traveled through time!

Qin Shao Yu: If Ling-er is willing, Zhui Ying sect can have the wedding anytime.

Shen Qian Ling: To be honest, I am extremely reluctant about this.

- 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.”