Primitive Man - Chapter 230: Two scientist

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

In a world where all magical spells have been captured into cards, those who can build a deck have the most power.The most Arthur could ever hope for was to someday earn a trash-tier spell card. When fate grants him a legendary Master of Skills card, he's thrust into a world of opportunity and danger.To survive and grow strong, Arthur must learn skills. All the skills.

Introduction: Gu Junqing has traveled to many urban novels in his previous life, and became one of the cannon fodder villains. As a villain, he should take it as his responsibility to steal the protagonist’s girlfriend. Why should the protagonist be able to sail smoothly and be invincible in the world? Let…

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”