Calculating Cultivation - Chapter 157 – The Final Battle

Strength: 1Agility: 1Stamina: 1Magic Power: 20Luck: 1All my stats are dumped into Magic Power.I can only use one spell.There’s no character as broken as this, and yet, that’s me.And somehow, I got mistaken for a once-in-a-lifetime genius.

Su Li has never expected that those she met in her first life would follow her to a new life in a new family.

Everything in this life is new and seems easy, but she knows that’s not what she wants.

She wants a revenge. Those who have done terrible things to her, those who have separated her from her husband, and those who have let her brother fail the royal examination in last life, she will let them pay in her way.

But how can a 14-year-old girl, innocent and elegant, take a revenge? How can she fight against her family on her own? How can she deal with her weak-kneed father and heartless mother? Just read and find it out now!

- 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.”