My Reincarnation as a Chicken - Chapter 22 Breakfast With A Cute Hob-Goblina

The world of Wageah was vast. It was filled with ancient magic, fallen gods, legendary mages, and exciting adventures.Earthlings summoned there gained godlike power.Zeus, Odin, Count Dracula, the Monkey King. All of them were humans who returned from Wageah and became legends on Earth.But my class and I, who were summoned to Wageah?We were enslaved.We were used, discarded, and left to die.But fate gave me another chance.I woke up as a newborn on Earth with all my memories intact. And soon after…[Awakening Supreme God's Treasure: Shadow][System Boot Successful]I gained strongest weapon in existence. [Shadow]. The treasure of the Supreme God.This time, I’ll grow stronger from the cradle. And when I return to Wageah—I won’t be a slave.I’ll be the shadow that devours the gods.

At his best friend’s memorial service, Bai Yan almost burst out laughing and got beaten to death.

Along the way, Bai Yan’s fits of laughter turned into ones of anger. His joy quickly turned to sorrow as he met his punishment that night.

He curiously opened the app that he had never seen before on his phone and was suddenly pulled into a terrifying world of reincarnation…

An infinite stream of horror flowed into his mind, ominous descriptions, breakthroughs, and storylines.

The main character should not be taken lightly. Be careful if you dare!

After her rebirth, she stared at her drop-dead gorgeous husband and suspected that she must have struck her head hard at the door for demanding a divorce time and time again!

In her previous life, she was blinded and murdered by her blood relatives. Now that she was reborn, she vowed to hold on to this thick thigh of her president husband, ravage her enemies, tear down that white lotus and regain her happiness.

- 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.”