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... the power of 《Dragon Claw》.

And then, his expectations were spot on. Before his forelimb even touches the orc’s body, something that resembles four scratch marks tear the orcs body apart, leaving gaping wounds from which blood pours out like a water fall.

The feeling of his paw slapping something remained in his paw. The effect of 《Dragon Claw 》 is just like 《Dragon Fang》, it created gigantic claw in the air with mana which has it’s movement synchronized with the movement of his ...

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Then he crossed. With his beloved little hammer, we walk along females-who-is-as-tall-as-he-is and male-who-is-a-head-taller-than-him-on-average future… blue, thin mushroom wants to go home.

Chu Rong: picked up a small dwarf who always wants to run away. Its cute, wanna drag home.

Qiao Zhiya: ??? Mama, there’s a pervert!

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Rebirth at the turn of the century, people are in Moscow, just got off the plane, ready to study abroad…

Wang Ye originally only wanted to be rich and safe, and to live his own life in a plain and happy way.

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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.”

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“Don’t do this, Rafael.”

“Shh, Annette. If you really want me to stop, please don’t open your dirty mouth. I’m going crazy right now because I want to squeeze it right in.”

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