The national prince charming took first place again - Chapter 1240

After being transported to another world, Lei XinFeng must struggle to survive. His village is settled in a forest, far away from any major cities.

When Han Kain woke up, he and several other people were inside a mysterious hotel with different rules and different expectations.Going into each hotel room threw them into other worlds and scenarios where they must brace death at times to escape or lift the curse of the individual rooms for a chance to bring everyone that died during the process back to life.Using their blessings that were given at the time of entry, they have to weave their way through the rooms while sometimes sacrificing themselves for a higher likelihood of success.* Very little horror; more of a thriller

On June 6th of the fifth year of the Great Wilderness, it was the fifth year since Yang Xu came to the ancient wilderness, he established the Daxu Kingdom in the wilderness and proclaimed himself king.

The country has one city, three towns, and nine thousand people.

Among the people are the fox clan in Qingqiu, the mermaid people in the East China Sea, and the blue bird clan.

The fox family is good at illusion, the mermaid can control the water, and the blue bird soars nine days.

Not long after the founding of the country, the Yuren found a lifeboat in the northwest waters of the Daxu Kingdom, and captured six human races, talking to themselves as American federalists.

Yang Xu:? ? ?

Come on, I have already established a country, you said that I am still on the earth and have not traveled through time?

- 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.”