Pretending to Be an Untouchable Crime Boss - Chapter 130: Message.

In the age of mutants and technology, everyone is after power and eternal life, but Kiba lives for his dreams of lust and vanity.

A man on a mission to live the life to the fullest. The tale of the legendary Wife Hunter whose very name terrifies husbands around the globe.

This is the story of the devil who does as his heart pleases, unafraid of the labels of good and evil.

The later generations immensely revered Great Wei’s Jianan Emperor. During the period of his reign, Great Wei entered its golden era.

Interestingly, all the records, that glorified his accomplishments unanimously agreed, that Jianan Emperor had only one flaw in his life: He favored only imperial noble consort!

Zhou Tong was very annoyed. She time-traveled out of blue, didn’t even have time to take a breath, and yet, already had to deal with troubles.

What? The original owner of her body was a walk-on cannon fodder*? She couldn’t even be regarded as a second female lead?

Zhou Tong is angry! Change, it must change! This plot needs a beautiful turn around in order to be worthy of sis’s coquettish personality!

This is a story of the unfortunate time-traveling lass, who possessed the body of reborn aboriginal maiden and became the Great Wei’s beloved imperial consort.

- Description from Novelupdates

When Coach Ethan saw Emma for the first time, he was attracted by her. It was a girl's breath. Emma is very stupid in learning to drive, but Ethan is very patient and let Emma sit on the coach to practice driving. This kind of close-up...

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.”