MTL - The Sweet Little Fulang - Chapter 73

In the Cyberpunk era, the Corporate Alliance dominated the world, with humans and witches alike serving as corporate cash cows, enslaved by advanced technology.Changes were thus unveiled, and Xu Yang, refusing to become a corporate slave, resolved to flee. He intended to rescue the adorable yet powerful witches from the clutches of the giant corporations, embarking on a path of innovation!

Qin Huai crossed into the mysterious fantasy world where demons were rampant and heroes were rising. He had no background or cultivation qualifications until the day he became a medicine store apprentice and started to cultivate with his fellow apprentices.

He found that the experience orbs actually fell out of his master and brothers.

He learned to grind medicine with his brothers.

“Ding! ‘Medicine Art’ Experience+3!”

His Master and brothers practiced martial arts.

“Ding! You picked up an ‘Essence of Qi Cultivation (White)’, ‘Qi Cultivation’ experience +3!”

He killed the bandits in the mountains and picked up their cultivation.

“Ding! ‘Astringent Breath Technique’ experience +13!”

His master said that the technique was not good at attacking, had a cultivation limit, and could only prolong life.

But when Qin Huai picked up the experience until the Astringent Breath Technique was 50 times stronger, his body took a tremendous change. A gentle push of his hand was like a wave. He could now both attack and defend.

People said that when two kinds of cultivation methods clashed, continuing to cultivate would lead to the death of the cultivator.

However, when Qin Huai picked up experience and directly skipped the cultivation process, he found there were no side effects at all!

When Qin Huai practiced more and more cultivation methods, he suddenly found that those methods interacted with each other in his body and became stronger skills.

…

Qin Huai, who could pick up experience, began to wander among the major powers.

He saw flesh growing from white bones and the dead revived.

He saw demons cooking 10,000 people and exuding extremely evil energy.

He saw the Buddha statue chanting in the temple. Sanskrit sounded like a mantra.

Qin Huai silently picked up experience in order to settle down in the chaotic world.

[Multiverse Fanfic]After an intimate encounter with a speeding truck, Ryota transmigrated into the Naruto world.Despite not being a member of the Uchiha clan, he somehow found himself caught up in the night of their clan's massacre.Fortunately, at the critical moment, he awakened the “All-Encompassing Divine Eye” system.To escape the ruthless slaughter brought by the Ninja World's most dutiful son, Uchiha Itachi, Ryota relied on the system and entered a mysterious Trial Space to begin his training.Half a year later, even without Uchiha bloodline, he managed to awaken the Sharingan through the help of the system and finally emerged from the Trial Space.But looking around at the monsters constantly popping up, Ryota suddenly realized something wasn't quite right!A naturally airheaded swordswoman wielding a long blade, known as the “Sword Princess”; an elf who could cast magic, known as the “Nine Hells”…And then there was this red-haired, squinty-eyed girl claiming to be a goddess, insisting he join her Familia.Ryota: “Familia? Gods...? Where exactly am I?”Loki: “Orario, of course!”Read chapters ahead! Support my work on [email protected]/rivyura

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.”