MTL - Unemployed at the Beginning, I Let the Singer Come Back - Chapter 444 encourage

In the new era of Blue Star Martial Arts, Demons invaded, and humankind was embroiled in a bitter struggles.Chu Feng transmigrated and arrived on the scene. Armed with the ways of being an overachiever, all he wanted was to once again show the spirit of a die-hard corporate slave and carve out his own piece of the world!No sooner had he been reborn than he was smeared with demons all over his face, but no worries, his golden finger had arrived!He could draw upon the Life Force of slain Demons to transform into Attribute Points, becoming stronger with limitless additions!“What to do when there are no more Attribute Points available?”“Hey, look over there, a lone Demon…”“Sneak up from behind, grab its head, just twist like this! Hey, Attribute Points secured!”…“In this world, having great strength means having everything!”“In my life, with such heaven-defying Martial Arts Talent, do you think I can become a Martial God?”“The path to the Martial God has ended; it's become nothing but old legends? Ha, the path I walk will be the new path of the Martial God!”…This book is also known as “Demons, I Need You to Help Me Cultivate!” “So Easy to Learn, I Think This Move is Really Simple” “Run Fast, the people at the front are haunted” “This Man is More Demonic Than the Demons Themselves!”

After the nth time of failing a marriage meeting, Xiang Han got himself a job: good treatment, high salary, free world traveling with food provided, house provided and even a ‘lover provided’?!

At first, he thought, apart from having to travel into the body of a scum cannon fodder, a scheming fake white lotus, everything else was okay. It was only later he realized that saving the target was also a problem. His imagination was neverending, even eating a cup of ramen was seen as a way to rouse his ( target’s) interest!

Xiang Han: This target is a no-go.

Certain Target: Very good, you’ve already managed to rouse my interest.

Xiang Han: Go outside and make a left turn to the optometrist, go get your eyes healed! Additionally, this “lover provided” isn’t necessary.

A Certain Target: This is certainly necessary!

- Description from novelupdates

[Warning: Mature Content and a ruthless, villainous, badass mc!]Kael Draven was once the feared leader of an underground mafia empire. A shadow ruler who pulled the strings behind the scenes.But power comes at a price. Kael learned that the hard way when a bullet pierced his ear, and his trusted ally betrayed him, bringing his life to an end.Bang!As his empire crumbled and his body hit the cold floor, all he could think was, ‘What a pathetic way to go.’Instead of hell, Kael woke up in a far more dangerous world, with a body stronger than ever—youthful, shredded, with muscles for days and an ego that could crush mountains.His title? Master of the Crimson Maw.He now led a bandit group that had angered a mysterious force and been wiped out—except for one survivor: a strong, silent gladiatrix who wanted nothing to do with him.To make things even more interesting, his body bore a glowing tattoo that whispered in his mind: “Bond. Through body. Through soul.”But Kael wasn’t one to back down. He didn’t like losing.So what if his base was a dilapidated shack? So what if his army was just one extremely voluptuous warrior?Kael wasn’t here to play small. He was going to turn this ragtag bandit group into a force feared by all, with a harem of deadly beauties who would bow to no one but him!Welcome to the Crimson Maw. Where the training is brutal, the beauties are overpowered, and the only thing more dangerous than an enemy is the bandit king himself.Let the grind begin!

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.”