The Doomsday Lord: Starting as a Insect Queen - Chapter 98 - 14: Agent Zhu, You Need to Exercise Restraint

Lin Xiao, who just won China’s first World trophy, got in an accident and was reborn five years later.

With the rapid development of the eSports industry, the career as professional player bloomed, the Club’s Gods circle/Professional Commentators circle/Popular MCs circle, the old friends from back then were all over the place.

The return of a King, aiming for the League, going from an unknown rookie to once again rising to the top.

Reporter: Regarding the rumours between you and Captain You, is there anything you want to say?
Lin Xiao: With all due respect, with my ability there is no need for un-spoken-rules!
Reporter: Captain You, is there anything you want to add?
You Jing: The rumours are true, back then he was vying for my love.
Lin Xiao: …how many times do I need to say it, that person wasn’t me!

- Description from Novelupdates

After being set up and killed by her half-sister whom her ex-boyfriend had cheated with, Mu Siyin woke up one day to discover that not only was she alive, but she had traveled back in time to 2 years before her death.

Childhood sweethearts.
The most popular person in school is my childhood sweetheart.

- 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.”