Top Grade Pure Beauty CEO - Chapter 721 - Calamity from the Southeast

Song Yi found herself transmigrated into a novel, becoming the female protagonist of an old-school Mary Sue story.Gentle, kind, beautiful, and graceful, she was the unattainable ideal in everyone’s heart. The aloof top student fell from his pedestal for her sake, while the reclusive young man fought against his family for her.All of this sounded quite nice, but there was just one problem – this novel had a bad ending!!!

Suddenly being thrown into the world of the novel and possessing a pretty much fucked up character made him have no choice but to continue his life as a new identity.

And just like any sane person that transmigrated into a book, of course, he would destroy every red flag that stood in his way.

Yet, unbeknownst to him, every single thing he did was just wrecking the storyline more and even more; to the point that the plot had become utterly screwed, thanks to him.

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In the vampire-ruled kingdom of Mildelar, the Blood Games stand as the ultimate form of entertainment—savage battles between familiars, humans bound to their vampire masters through blood pacts. Far more than mere spectacles, these brutal fights determine the prestige of noble families, shaping their power and influence across the realm. Lyon, a young human saved from death by a blood pact with the alluring Arya Valakys—one of the king’s daughters—is unwillingly thrust into this cruel world. Bound to his mistress, he is forced into relentless battles to elevate her standing.Lyon, however, stands apart from other familiars. While they derive their strength from the fear of punishment, he draws his... from having dirty thoughts about his mistress!

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.”