Worldwide Awakening: My Soul Kinds Are Lost - Chapter 574: The Company Depends on the Boss’s Lottery Sales for Revenue_1

In a fantasy world where martial artists can split mountains and creeks with a wave of their hand and break rivers with a kick, there exists a little restaurant like this.

The restaurant isn’t large, but it is a place where countless apex existences will rush into.

There, you can taste egg-fried rice made from phoenix eggs and dragon blood rice.

There, you can drink strong wine brewed from vermillion fruit and water from the fountain of life.

There, you can taste the barbecued meat of a ninth grade supreme beast sprinkled with black pepper.

What? You want to abduct the chef? That’s not going to happen, because there’s a divine beast of unfathomable level, the Hellhound, lying at the entrance.

Oh, that chef also has a robotic assistant that killed a ninth grade supreme being with a single hand and a group of crazy women whose stomachs were conquered.

When disaster struck, Ling Mo knew that the kinds of zombies depicted in doomsday movies would in fact, be totally different from reality…

“Serial killers? Ancient Martial Artists? Swordmasters? I don’t give a rat’s *ss who you are! All will bow before me!”

Five years ago, his family was wiped off the face of this Earth, and the useless Ye Chen was looked down upon like an earthworm crawling on the floor. However, five years have passed, and he has mysteriously returned with a head full of earth-shattering abilities.

What is even more terrifying is that he is now backed by the strength of a hundred ancient elder spirits!

With all of that in his grasp, Ye Chen has returned not to reminiscence, but to exact revenge on all of those who have wronged him, especially the mysterious Man.

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The Divine Urban Physician

Status in COO : N/A Chapters (Completed)

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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.”