The Sinful Life of The Emperor - Chapter 777: Plotter!

What is a genius? Capable of comprehending any battle skill regardless of the skill itself and sweeping away the bottlenecks while cultivating a new technique; this is a true genius! He Yiming was originally an ordinary youngster in the He family’s estate with not too extraordinary aptitude in learning martial arts.

However, after a fortuitous encounter, this ordinary youngster became what people refer to as genius in a single leap. Possessing an aptitude for learning martial arts which would leave people in awe, regardless of whether it’s his clan’s Houtian Scripture of Five Phases or various Xiantian scriptures of legends. Regardless of whether it’s mental techniques or battle skills, he can comprehend them all in their entirety at a frightening speed. Martial God, with martial as its name, using the most simple and direct approach, thrives!

- Description from Novelupdates

Free Life Fantasy Online… a.k.a. FLFO.

Tsukishiro Kotone receives this game as gift from her little sister and starts playing.

The character’s race she has selected was… one of “Inhuman” races for enthusiasts.

A race said to be bad even among Inhuman races that are known to be difficult – a Zombie.

Ling Lang is thirty-two years old and an A list movie star. He is also the youngest to become the king of the silver screen. Known for having a cold and aloof disposition, people nicknamed him king iceberg of the silver screen. His biggest secret? He is a masochist down to his very bones.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”