Heavenly Dao Engine - Chapter 72 - 00 Counterkill the Four Bandits (Seeking

In Zhenhai City, the Chu Family receives an imperial decree that revives the hope of reclaiming their ancestral title, but only if a descendant places in the top three of the Martial Examination. For young Chu Yangxiang, who unexpectedly discovers he has Grade 1 Martial Dao Talent, this honor seems within reach. Yet, as he rises, envy and family rivalries emerge, with the privileged Chu Xiaoxiang demanding loyalty—or threatening to ruin him.Determined and battered, Chu Yangxiang faces a brutal choice: submit or fight for his family’s legacy. Will he overcome these powerful?

Leo, a common middle school student, was accidentally invited to a Wechat group full of legendary immortals, such as the Monkey King, ErLang Sheng, the Dragon King of the East. Since that day, his life completely changed. With the mystical items receive from his WeChat group,

- Description from Novelupdates

Wake up and an unknown door has appeared in your home… Behind each door is a completely unfamiliar world.In the nightmare world, Jiang Cheng relays the news from the Hunk to the Fatty, adding his own spin to the story.The Fatty almost cried in fear hearing it.“My whole family will be strung upside down for blood-letting if I die here?”“That’s what I heard.”“Then, how come you don’t look scared at all?” The fatty widened his eyes.Jiang Cheng turned around and replied in a very formal tone, “Because I’m an orphan.”

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.”