Beneath the Dragoneye Moons - Chapter 491: The Sword in the Stone

My name is Chen Huaian, and I’m dying of cancer.In my final days, I became obsessed with a game where you raise a virtual girlfriend.I spent all my savings buying her cultivation manuals and magical artifacts. Though my wallet was empty, I smiled like never before.I always thought it was just a game—until one day, my virtual girlfriend sent me a mystical pill.The next second, the pill materialized in my hand.I… might not have to die after all?——————————————————My name is Li Qingran. I was stripped of my cultivation, had my spiritual roots torn out, and was exiled from my sect, left to die in a broken-down hut.Just as I thought my life was over, I encountered a mysterious benefactor who never showed their face.This enigmatic figure healed my wounds, guided my cultivation, and helped me grow stronger until I became the most powerful sword cultivator in the Cangyun Realm.But the Cangyun Realm is on the brink of collapse. Spiritual energy is drying up, and the path to immortality is fading. Rumors spread that a mighty immortal from the Celestial Realm plans to merge our world with another on the verge of a spiritual resurgence.A great era of chaos is coming.And even immortals may fall.Desperate to find my benefactor, I scour the world for their traces.I will protect them—and become their eternal partner in the Dao!

Life is unpredictable. Her husband loved her stepsister, deposed her as Empress and even forced her son to death. In that Cold Palace, she was forced to drink poisonous wine. So in the next lifetime, she made a promise to never do good deeds and help others, to never step into the palace and to never become the Empress!

Bought it right away.

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.”