Magic Sect of Beauties: The Strongest Mage is in a Cultivation World - Chapter 177: A Mouth to Imperial Sword Relationship; Huo Zirou’s Strong Crave for Everything Yang Wei.

Zhou Donghuang, a man from the Earth, is able to destroy any planet in the universe without lifting a finger. His supreme will can sweep across the vast cosmos in the blink of an eye. And his immortal spirit can depart from his body and wander around the universe!

In Kunlun Mountains lies a circular slate, which brought him back to one thousand years ago…

- Description from Novelupdates

I’ve entered a hidden route in a failed game.And now, I have to become a false prophet.There’s no other choice.Since it’s come to this, I’ll become the greatest false prophet on the continent.

The era of the decline and fall of the galaxy has arrived, and the power to destroy the world has gathered unprecedentedly.

The minions of the four evil gods are wreaking havoc in the real universe. The terrifying monsters and demon legions in the dark night of old have brought destruction and despair to countless human worlds.

In the darkness, a ray of light emerged.

Carrying countless human technologies, the soul from another world came back to life with the help of the body of the thirteenth parent and child of the imperial emperor.

The battle between humans and evil gods is rekindled.

In the name of the Emperor, countless human heroes gather again.

Blood and corpses will pave the way for the glory of mankind.

“As soon as I opened my eyes, you told me that human beings are about to die??”

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”