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... e’ve gained the advantage in the war, to completely eradicate the Demon Palace will take at least ten years. The sooner we take care of the Blood Vine, the sooner we can reduce our losses."

The Northern Guardian King’s eyes were filled with expectation.

Lu Chenzhou thought of something, then asked: 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

"President, among the Four Emperors, isn’t there one skilled in curse techniques? Does the Council know its current hiding place?"

The Nort ...

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Life is simply too short to have fun.

Yan An agreed with this saying and decided to seek some sort of fun during her lonely trip.

And now, in the present, inside the cramped airplane cabin, the skydiving instructor is sitting next to her.

With an upright face and long and toned legs, the instructor overall has a striking and abstinent impression.

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As the first ray of sunlight penetrates the receding darkness of the night, Shan Yi slowly gets up, his rugged and sensual figure laid bare for all to see.

But room is so dead and quiet as if there hasn’t been any trace of any living person.

Then the phone under the pillow vibrates: I have a sudden emergency, I’m returning to China first, thank you for your hospitality, and see you in the rivers and lakes soon! Bye-bye, Handsome.

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In Beitong Airlines, a new batch of trainee pilots has been recently dispatched.

Yan An, who was assigned to follow the new captain of the aircraft, heard that he is one of the most competent and punctual captains in the entire civil aviation industry.

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The man is in a crisp and pristine uniform. He has broad shoulders, narrow waist, and tall, upright body, that is seemingly bursting with testosterone.

The gaze of the two collided, and with his black eyes so piercing and deep, Shan Yi raised his thin lips into a smile yet not like a smile, he gently pressed a hundred-euro bill onto the table, and calmly stated,

“Returning it to its rightful owner.”

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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.”