Cultivation Online - Chapter 1727 Fighting Xi Murong

Kyle woke up in a land of fantasy and magitech. The usual 'I died and woke up' bullshit, skip all that.

Except he used to be a crime lord, and society here is missing that extra kick.

Jiang Zhen crossed into ancient times and became the old bachelor eldest Jiang who was neglected by the whole family in the village of Jiang Xihu in Hexi Village.

He was born into a good family and Jiang Laoda is busy in the year but can’t eat a full meal. Two younger brothers can marry a wife, but he is starved to death… Jiang Zhen feels unbearable.

Don’t want to feed me? OK, I kill the chicken myself.

Don’t you give me a glimpse of food? It doesn’t matter, the door of the granary will be opened as soon as it goes down.

Want to tell me that I am not filial? Ok, I immediately took the knife into the county to slash people, and let the county grandfather grab all of us.

Jiang Zhen took the attire of the family’s best products and became a tyrant in the village. He also saw the “ugly” ger who could not get married in the village.

Future father-in-law: “Jiang Zhen is always wandering around our house. Isn’t it necessary to grab our house?”

The future mother-in-law: “What to do, Jin Geer must not beat him!”

Zhao Jinge’s face is hot… Dad, the wild rabbit that I got back today is what he gave…

- Description from Novelupdates

An advertising film director was reborn in the bustling Hollywood in 1988. From then on, he began his own domineering road to becoming a legend in the film industry, mastering everything from writing, editing, directing, and supervising films and TV series, dating a lot of female stars, and having a bunch of child stars.Unofficial translation of 我就是好莱坞 by 贾思特杜.

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.”