The Demon Lord Is An Angel - Chapter 16: First Flight

When Ye Qing Ran wakes up, she finds that she has transmigrated into a book. She has become the vain, domineering, and evil villain who dies a tragic death.

In the past life, he was an aerodynamic engineer of a well-known company, and in this life, he is a college student of a famous school.

When the two identities are perfectly integrated, what sparks will appear.

His life experience is also slowly uncovering the mystery, whether he can beat the tycoons of this era, and whether he can stand at the peak of world business.

- Description from novelbuddy

Below the nine setting suns lies the remains of the Golden Crows.By chance, a young man arrives in the world of Journey to the West, attaining enlightenment using the bodies of nine Golden Crows, leading to a different journey.Summary for this book: “Living in the Journey to the West, I started off by roasting nine Golden Crows.”Yet another summary is, “My days of collecting bodies in the Journey to the West. When it comes to body collection, no one's better than me. Three hundred years of professional body collection experience, skilled at cooking braised meat, and never adds sugar in it.”

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.”