Becoming the Richest by Farming - Chapter 470 - 0 The feeling of making up the numbers is becoming more and more obvious_1

At the far north of the Atherno Continent, in an unknown village, Kyrian was born as a mere mortal. Weak, insignificant, and destined for oblivion.But he was anything but ordinary. Upon opening his eyes for the first time, they revealed an absolute white eyes without pupils or irises… and with them, an inexplicable innate talent.The ability to see what no one else could.His eyes didn’t just see the particles of spiritual energy, they could steal them. And more than that.Whether intentions, laws, concepts… everything before his vision could be taken by his eyes.When he stole his first Sword Intention, his eyes awakened to the path of the blade. Upon taking the Intention of Ice, another ocular pair was born.With every new stolen intention, his eyes changed, and new ones appeared.Kyrian does not hide them from the world, no, heeding his mother’s last wishes. He uses his gift without fear, with only one goal.To become strong by any means.

The ashes-level player traveled through World of Warcraft and became Jaina’s brother. We are also princes now.

For the sake of the survival of the family, should I discount my sister’s legs first, lest she become a kinslayer in the future?

and many more? How come you have to die first?

Let me see the walkthrough.

Well, first touch the forehead to open the character panel,

Then he picked up his weapon and opened the skull of the orc,

If you drop the equipment, you will earn it. If you don’t have it, you don’t have to be sad. Wash your hands, and then go to the next one…

Okay, no kidding, let’s get serious and start the story again:

Death is a key that opens a new life.

Blake Xiao holds the player template, can fight monsters and upgrade, sit on the occupation system, and make great progress all the way.

Tighten the cloak of the night, hold the shadow as the blade, sharpen the minions with slaughter, and feed the ambition with fear.

From the Kingdom of Storms to Orgrimmar, his wicked deeds are known,

His notoriety is known to everyone from Icecrown to Pandaria.

When the black-clothed emperor emerged from the shadows, the whole world trembled.

This is the story of this man, from Khaz Modan six years in the Dark Portal…

- Description from novelbuddy

“Dafeng Night Watchman” tells the story of modern policeman Xu Qian'an who traveled to the Dafeng Dynasty. As soon as Xu Qian'an traveled through time, he was involved in the case of the loss of his second uncle's tax silver. He was later implicated and imprisoned and faced exile, but he successfully solved the case with his past life experience and wisdom, rescued himself and his second uncle's family, and joined the night watchman organization. After that, he encountered various murders, political struggles, and entanglements with mysterious forces. He killed his superiors in anger to save the female relatives of the prisoners, was involved in the Sangpo case, participated in the struggle between Buddhism and the Kingdom of Ten Thousand Monsters, and entered the sight of major forces. In the end, Xu Qian'an realized that his mission was to plead for the people and protect the weak. He began to run around for the people of the world, promoted the alliance between Dafeng and the Southern Xinjiang Gu Clan and the Kingdom of Ten Thousand Monsters, and joined hands with Princess Huaiqing to launch a coup to save the people of the world. The novel combines a variety of cultural elements such as Confucianism, Taoism, Buddhism, the demon clan, and sorcerers, showing Xu Qian'an's intelligence and detective skills.

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.”