I Turn Out to Be a Grand Master - Chapter 7

In her past life, she had no one to rely on and died alone in jail.

But now, she has been reborn, given a second chance.

Got an heirloom.
Activated a mystical Space Dimension.
Studied medicine and became a genius doctor.
Opened a clinic.
Founded a company.
Bought a house and land.
Found her blood relatives.
Her worth became higher and higher.
Her fan club became bigger and bigger.

“Young master, the Zhao family’s young master faked an illness and went to future young miss’s place for treatment. . .” said a servant.

“Break his legs! Fail his organs! A fake illness? I’ll make him sick completely!” A man said.

“Yes! But young master. . . what are you doing?” The servant said, confused.

The man finished swallowing a bunch of expired pills and said, “I’m sick, gotta go find my wife for some treatment!”

Zombies...... The world fall into their hands, and the humanity was almost got eradicated.But there are some survivors, that's what Jude thought but is that the truth?He and some other people used a cruise ship and escaped from the mainland, but due to some twist of fate his wife betrayed him.Now he is stranded in an abandoned island, he thought he was alone in that place, he thought he finally became free. But is that the reality?There are some others were in that place too but he didn't know about them at that time.He didn't know that meeting those people will change the course of his entire life.[ warning........]** The story contains many more erotic scenes, so only recommended to those who are above 18+**Harem - yesYuri - No

In a survival game to select new Gods, mankind is summoned to another world filled with different races.

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.”