Rise of The Demon General - Chapter 102

As a new anchor of StarTV, Yu Yan’s ruthless trash-talk, natural rifle-shooting skills, and character of never searching houses earned him a big crowd of fans.

He felt like he was a good anchor who treated all fans of his stream equally—you can suck at the game, you can get knocked down, but if you want the gun in my hand, sorry, no way man.

Until he heard the voice of the streaming platform’s Big Boss.

Yu · ultimate voice-con · Yan: I’m not familiar with this game, swap my Kar98k for your Mini-14.

Yi · brand new noob · Chen: En.

Friend: Daddy, I want to snipe too!

Yu Yan: I think this frying pan suits you very well.

Not-a-very good gamer but dripping with money and looks Big Boss vs Cute, super good trash-talking gunslinger voice-con Anchor.

- Description from Novelupdates

The cycle of life is not infinite—except, perhaps, for Elijah.At 122 years old, Elijah lived a long and successful life—until he woke up as someone entirely new. Now, an anomaly in a mysterious kingdom sustained by magic, he faces questions about his place in a world that doesn't defy the laws of nature, but take them to an entirely new level.For over six millennia, this isolated realm of 300,000 citizens has thrived, its survival bound to the magic that nurtures its air, water, and food. Yet, some whisper that a kingdom refusing to expand is doomed to fall. How, then, has this kingdom endured?As Elijah uncovers ancient secrets, dives into treacherous cave systems, and grapples with the fatal flaws of magic, he learns the truth about existence itself—forces that shaped the cosmos. New alliances rise to confront an ancient plague, and the kingdom's delicate balance teeters on the edge of collapse.In this world, the vibrant hues of freedom and potential are mere illusions, like sunlight filtered through stained glass. Elijah must decide whether to shatter the illusion—or embrace it.————This novel goes into great detail about the ways of the people and how it will differ from the suspected outside world. What seems like a population of people who do not have much knowledge, show how they found their way by “feeling”, or by anecdotal(personal) evidence.

18 years have passed since I was born as Allen, the eldest son of an earl in this world, while still retaining my memories of the present world. This world is peaceful and a stable society. The only extraordinary thing is that I was reincarnated into a world that is lenient on the existence of concubines. I selected a silver-haired maid as a sex slave and second wife candidate from among 10 candidates after a strict fellatio practical exam. I then lived an erotic life at home and at school as an attendant, but my reincarnated life is so fulfilling that I'm worried it will explode, as my busty childhood friend, a noble girl who was unsuccessful, ran for the third wife candidate, and my stepmother, who was my virgin partner, was sold off.

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.”