Qi Cultivation Starting from the Repair Panel - Chapter 571 - 410: Daoist Ancestor Zheng Chu, the Universe Borrows the Dao

Delicious food and sake.

And if pressed by beautiful girls, shouldn’t you be honest with yourself and make a harem?

That’s the creed of an uncle who was teleported to another world and decided to relax and farm.

He and his brides are very satisfied with the food cooked with Japanese seasonings. The cooking ingredients of that world are delicious but his crops are delicious too.

“Tatsuya-san, do you hate having fun with us?”

“Not at all.”

This is a story of a man spending his time eating delicious food and having fun with girls.

Today’s dragon steak is as delicious as ever.

An Individual from Earth finds themselves in the Shinobi World, equipped with a Scientific System. From that moment, he delved into scientific research far ahead of its time.

Her family used her, her boyfriend cheated on her and had an affair with her stepsister, and in the end, she was killed by them. But fate took pity on her and gave her a second chance in life, and in this life, she promised to reclaim everything that was stolen from her by those scums.

But who would have thought that in this second life, she would also meet him? She was spoiled and pampered by him so much that nobody dares to bully her anymore.

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.”