The Blind Lover - Chapter 187 - Benefits

I found myself in a parallel universe, awakening as a male priest. Everything seemed perfect; after all, as a healer, specializing in aiding women should pose no issue, right? However, I couldn’t help but wonder about some peculiar spells in my repertoire.

Firstly, what in the world is the “Instantaneous Outbreak of Acute Gastroenteritis” spell? And don’t even get me started on the “Osteoporosis” spell. What purpose could these serve in my healing endeavors? The confusion only deepened with spells like “Blood Burn,” “Gradual Freeze,” and “Mental Chaos.” Can I still peacefully focus on healing women with such ominous abilities?

Comparing my spells to those of other professions, I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast. Mages wield “Doomstorm” and “Ice Age,” swordsmen boast “Sword Rain: Homecoming” and “Wind-Cutter Slash,” while archers showcase “Arrow Rain: Shooting Stars” and “Storm Arrow.” Yet, my ultimate spells are disturbingly named “Cancer Cell Proliferation,” “T-Virus Infection,” and “Rabies Outbreak.”

In the midst of it all, a certain character, some crying girl, laments, “Noooo, I just took a bath, who would have thought that I would become infected!”

Meanwhile, a villain chillingly asks, “Do any of you know what it feels like to burst apart while spouting blood? No! You don’t know!”

Even a boss character confesses, “Dear family, who can understand? I just took a nap, and when I woke up, I suddenly found that I have no kidneys!”

Kim Jeongjin, an editor of a publishing company on the brink of closing due to bankruptcy, ends up transmigrating inside a fantasy novel as the incompetent youngest son of a wealthy family.

And here he thought that he should live a rich life in this life…

“Why was I given a high-level skill? Don’t even bother!”

Dual cultivation and apocalypse—words that mix like oil and water. There's nothing charming about seducing feral women on the road.

However, when Kaze Lexicon, the emperor of the Immortal Plane, got transmigrated into the past, he refused to give up his debaucherous ways—apocalypse or otherwise.

Armed with the knowledge of the future and an encyclopedia of overpowered cultivation techniques, he immediately set forth to obtain resources and build a lavish settlement to live a comfortable life dual cultivating in the apocalypse.

However, while it's obscenely protected and powerful, he finds himself in another predicament. The cultivators farming humans for their war, and the desperate humans, become enemies far more dangerous than the zombies and monsters that afflict humanity.

Join Kaze as he rebuilds his reputation from a bullied weeb, obtains wealth, builds power, starts a faction, makes lemonade, trains his people, protects his past lovers, conquers settlements, and fights humans, monsters, and cultivators, all for the sake of two obscene goals: enjoying life and building an army of engineers to bring modern technology to the higher planes.

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.”