I Just Inherited The Arcane Emperor's Legacy - Chapter 65: Flame Barrage

Elara was not a nosy person, but something about her supposedly perfect boss helplessly weeping at night in an empty office triggered her curiosity.Mr. Terrence, her boss, was the ideal image of perfection: powerful, rich, and amiable. There had not been a single flaw in him until the day she saw the crack in his mask.Not only was he not the dominant figure she had assumed, but he was also clingy, sweet, and... wasn’t this the ideal puppy boyfriend?! How was this possible? Her boss was actually a secret softie!Follow Elara as she navigates the chaotic relationship with her 'perfect' boss, filled with nothing but surprises!

A young boy named Chen Zong got lucky and found a mysterious Sword Seal. With the help of it, he rose to be a God in Sword who defeated innumerable top talents in all universes from a remote borderland.

- Description from Novelupdates

Zhao Ming arrived in the Douluo Continent with the Sign-In and Clock-In System, awakening the Puppet Martial Spirit—Yan Lingji, Yun Yun, Medusa, and more…As Zhao Ming led his ten puppets across the continent, the entire Douluo Continent gradually became his personal domain.Awakening the power of the world, he reveled in the embrace of beauties.Such is the destiny of men.He crushed Tang San, killed the Grandmaster, destroyed the Clear Sky School, unified the continent, and became the first emperor of the Douluo Continent.

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.”