PREVIEW

... Elders_2

Even though the Third Princess Xiaoo Ying’Er had a great deal of trust in ’Mu Shiba’s’ mystical methods, she still felt uneasy, knowing this concerned something that could impact the entire Great Xia Dynasty.

Seated in subordinate positions in the council hall were five of the Profound Phoenix Celestial Sect’s Grand Elders, each at Eighth-Layer Perfection, their expressions also tinged with worry.

Among them, Ouyang Qinglan frowned after a moment of silence and said ...

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Wu Yuan was reborn to the eighth or eighth year when the carpenter had just graduated from school.

The snobby wife who had only been with her for three months in her previous life was about to marry.

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It is impossible for him to take this hard-won chance of rebirth to cover that cold heart that does not belong to him.

With that skill, he could have picked a better one.

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My newest Works are [Undying Warlord]& [Odyssey of the Blind God] are my newest works.

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The moment the entire Universe was devoured, everything changed.

The Void barriers deprived of energy shattered and merged multiple Universes.

Through the enormous accumulated energy, a new, pristine and infinitely large planet emerged.

At the same time, the Souls of the Old, devoured Universe, received the opportunity to reincarnate, to change the inevitable fate of their first life!

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I’m hungry.

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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.”