Immortal Taoist Lord: My Cultivation Have No Limits - Chapter 556 - : 171 Shocking, Dramatic Turnaround_2

Everyone in the City of Jing thinks that bestowment of marriage between Xian Junwang and the daughter of the Yi’an Marquis House is to insert a fresh flower into manure.

Ophelia von Aubessec, an Empress ruling over millions gets slain.Regressing back to her body 300 years ago, she sets her sights on getting revenge on the forces who had managed to kill her.By using her knowledge of the future, she builds her own Empire, wins back the lovers she lost, and discovers the secrets of the system she had been provided.---------This is a dark novel and IT IS HAREM. However, it may travel more into a polygamous relationship due to the complications of a harem.There are also R18 scenes sprinkled about, so please read responsibly.

Wen Qing was pulled into an infinite flow game, and after struggling through the first instance, he received a strange buff.

System: 【 All non-human beings will have a good impression of you. PS: ***** 】

Wen Qing asked cautiously: ”What do the asterisks mean?”

System: 【 It means ***** 】

The blocked words are definitely not good at all!

Wen Qing cried: ”Can I refuse this weird buff?”

System: 【 The highest-end hunters often appear in the form of prey. 】

Wen Qing choked. ”Am I the highest-end hunter?”

System: 【 You are the most delicious prey. 】

Wen Qing: ???

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”