MTL - Celestial Immortal - Chapter 791 Five-color dream dragon! Omen of Shame

A hundred thousand years ago, there was a great war between cultivators. Immortals fell by the tens of thousands, the path of cultivation itself was severed, and after the dust settled, tombs forested the world.

A hundred thousand years after the last legend faded, Lu Yun, commandant of tomb raiders, descends upon the world. Armed with the Book of Life and Death, he has some burning questions to answer.

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“This isn’t how you raid a tomb!” Lu Yun smirked at the cultivators frantically scurrying about the ancient tomb. “Do you want me to teach you?”

……

But ah, can someone teach him how to cure his new body’s erectile dysfunction?

“Be better”

Peter was cursed by those words, the very last words of his dying mother.

Cursed to be better. To be above the small squabbles... And so, the last five years of his childhood, he spent as a target of bullying, both in school and in his adoptive, step-family.

But it all changed, when a portal to another world appeared in the middle of his shed!

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After five years, Ning Xi has returned and is out to take revenge on the sister who turned her parents against her and the childhood sweetheart who betrayed her for her sister. She aims to fulfill her childhood dream and become a famous actress. However, her sister is still out to get her, and she has to avoid all her underhanded schemes.

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.”