The rise of the pervert primordial - Chapter 671: Is chaos better than order? (part 26)

Shen Tang woke up on the way to distribution, and found that the world was very unscientific.

The divine stone descended from the sky, and a hundred kingdoms competed for each other.

Wen condenses the heart, and the export comes true.

Gathering martial arts and courage, splitting mountains and breaking seas.

What she thought was a pretty boy, saying “Hold the gun and jump the horse”, the next second the armor is attached to the body, the spear is in hand, and one person forms an army, and thousands of troops can kill seven in and seven out!

The tuberculosis ghost in her eyes, she said “the stars are scattered all over the world”, the sky is like a round cover, the land is like a chess game, and the formation of troops is easy to come by!

This TM can’t be considered unscientific!

It is clear that the coffin of science has been nailed to death by theology!

And she—

“My lord, there is a severe drought in Beijun, why don’t you cry?”

Shen Tang: “…”

“My lord, Nanzhou flood, why don’t you smile more?”

Shen Tang: “…”

———————

Looking at the ten bowls of rice that she killed, the pockets that were cleaner than her face, and a group of villagers who were starving for food, harboring malicious intentions and causing trouble all day long, Shen Tang, the village chief who was suspected of being the reincarnation of the rice bucket and a true soul painter, had to give up his beloved He was forced to embark on the road of applying for a job as a prince.

- Description from novelbuddy

He slides his hand between her legs and pulls her in. She gasps and holds on to him for support as he runs his fingers between her lips and clit. She's trembling from his touch. As he moves his finger around the outside of her.“Time to rinse off” he whispers to her.He uses his body to push her towards the water and he rubs her again he presses the front half of her body to his and washes the soap off her backside. She throws her head back. And begins to let out a scream, but he covers her mouth with his hands and says “shhhhh be quiet now.”He spins her around so her back side is pressed against his erected cock. Feeling it's cold contact she throws her head back again gasping. Her then washes the front of her off pressing hard against her he gropes her breast squeezing them tight and pinching her nipples.She was so surprised by how good this felt.How badly she wanted him to bite her.And just as she finished that thought he stuck his hands between her legs again, and then he bit her on the opposite side of Oliver's bite. The bite burned her core undoing her as he played with her clit with his fingers and then sliding them inside her. Holding her body hostage with his fangs and fingers she completely submitted to his whims. He could have what ever he wanted in that moment and she wouldn't complain a bit.Pulling his fingers out of her and sucking her juices off them he says “You really are the best thing I've ever tasted. And now I know why my brothers are struggling not to fuck you and are fighting over you. I don’t think we can wait until the full moon to start breaking you in.”

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.”

A silhouette of a man standing upon a boulder with the crescent of the moon shining behind him.

A kukri dripping with blood in one hand and a pistol in the other.

The image of burning flames surrounding him.

The countless mercenaries screamed as they saw this scene.

“It’s a demon!”