Dominion of The Beast Masters - Chapter 278: Primal

【Explosive Fantasy, Exhilarating Fiction】He had been beaten by his father into a cripple and kicked out of his home, yet he was the most badass genius in history. The Empress of the Divine World? She’s my woman! The Great Lord of the Demon World? He’s my disciple! The Dragon God of the Demon Realm? He’s my mount! Those who mess with Xu Nian will die! Those who touch Xu Nian’s Forbidden Lamella will wish they were dead!

Ashton is an Alpha who hides who he is due to the fear of being feared, and Caleb is an omega who hides his identity since he hates the way omegas are mistreated. Both of them gave up on the thought of ever having a relationship, even if they find their fated mates.

What happens when these two meet and their biggest secrets unfold. Will this bring them closer? Can they fight their feelings despite not wanting to?

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“The way spoke in front of them, you almost had me convinced that you liked me”, Ashton snorted.

“I do”. Caleb confessed.

With widened eyes, Ashton struggled to ask, “Is this… another one of you jokes”?

“No. I really like you. I have liked you for a long time”. He said, biting his lips, awaiting the rejection.

“I thought you hate Alphas”. Ashton wondered.

“Not you”. Caleb declared.

Coincidentally, indoorsy-guy Zhang Yang went to the cultivation world, being the lowest level of zombie. By using a manual book named: “ Tai Yin Refining Figures”, Zhang Yang find his own way to success and leaves a “If a zombie knows how to use a manual, nobody can stop it “ legend in the world.

- 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.”