PREVIEW

... away from the Ancient Desolate Realm of Gods sat a man whose skin was covered in golden-red feather patterns and that radiated dazzling and scorching light that illuminated the vastness of the Fan Universe.

Suddenly, the man opened his fiery eyes and gazed at that astonishing beam of divine light in the distance.

“A God Eye energy that I have never sensed before….” The man immediately got to his feet.

“Could it be the Ninth God Eye?”

He had not interacted with the Ancient ...

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An unknown disciple from a small sect battling against the strongest in the cultivation world! The long journey working at cultivation, the realization of destiny and the chance to reach the apex of the world.

Some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them. Zuo Mo is a zombie faced low level cultivator in a minor sect of a little world. Ever since he was picked up by the sect leader two years ago, he has no memories of his earlier life except a recurring nightmare. Navigating the rigid class structure and intricacies of the cultivation world, as one of the lowest possible of the lowest class, Zuo Mo’s dream is to earn money, and lots of it, through being a spiritual plant farmer.

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- Description from novelupdates

MTL - The Orc Old Attack Lightly TeasesChapter 139 Because of you, I love the whole world!
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Accidentally traveled to the ancient mysterious tribe, how to survive?
Waiting online, very anxious!
They come, the security!
Fei Li started his new life in the ancient tribe.
It’s okay to grow vegetables and study food, life is leisurely!
It’s just that facing the harassment of orcs every day makes him feel dizzy.
One night, he quietly climbed onto Lausanne’s couch.
The next day, he shyly said, “Lausang, you have to be responsible to me!”
Since then, he has a fat leg on the list, and he has no worries about food and clothing in the tribe, and no one dares to miss him.
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“Hey… I lost my wife and lost my army!”
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This article is sweet and funny, not abusive, not abusive, not abusive!

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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.”