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... inside, and I was currently swaddled in a blanket with Camara in my arms, my small daughter staring up at me with those muddy ruby eyes.

Yawning, I smiled down at her, before giving Rhefia a kiss.

My wife was sitting behind me, her arms wrapped protectively around us as she stared down at Camara, her amber eyes filled with warmth.

Camara let out a tiny noise, making us both turn towards her.

Noticing that we were staring at her, Camara buried her face into my ches ...

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For the sake of his family, Ren embarked on the popular VRMMORPG, COVENANT, that used real-time in-game currency. But being a mediocre player who only knows how to gather information, he was put in a supporting role.

As the game explodes in popularity and every multibillion-dollar company invested in the game, things have turned for the worse for Ren. Due to the amount of information he gathered, the cheats, secrets, quests, and bugs he discovered, he was silent in fear of selling the information to the other guilds.

But given a second chance, he went back in time when his father was still alive and COVENANT was just in its starting phase.

This time . . . he wouldn’t be that guy on the side who gathered information from day in and day out for ten years.

Equipped with the games knowledge he accumulated, he will become . . . an Alchemist!

Chrono Mage? Djin Master? Summoner? Necromancer?
Chaos Lord?

What good are those?

Sure they’re powerful and rare classes and sought after by guilds, but it’s the alchemist who forged artifacts and concocts rare items and potions that gets the most coins at the end of the day!

It was better than being a blacksmith or a crafter! Plus, he could use all sorts of magic without limit to race and class!

It was the ultimate class! And no one even knows it!

MTL - Back Off, Let Me ComeChapter 832 : Let the Lord Bear It All (Medium) [Seeking Moon
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Shen Tang woke up on the way to distribution, and found that the world was very unscientific.

The divine stone descended from the sky, and a hundred kingdoms competed for each other.

Wen condenses the heart, and the export comes true.

Gathering martial arts and courage, splitting mountains and breaking seas.

What she thought was a pretty boy, saying “Hold the gun and jump the horse”, the next second the armor is attached to the body, the spear is in hand, and one person forms an army, and thousands of troops can kill seven in and seven out!

The tuberculosis ghost in her eyes, she said “the stars are scattered all over the world”, the sky is like a round cover, the land is like a chess game, and the formation of troops is easy to come by!

This TM can’t be considered unscientific!

It is clear that the coffin of science has been nailed to death by theology!

And she—

“My lord, there is a severe drought in Beijun, why don’t you cry?”

Shen Tang: “…”

“My lord, Nanzhou flood, why don’t you smile more?”

Shen Tang: “…”

———————

Looking at the ten bowls of rice that she killed, the pockets that were cleaner than her face, and a group of villagers who were starving for food, harboring malicious intentions and causing trouble all day long, Shen Tang, the village chief who was suspected of being the reincarnation of the rice bucket and a true soul painter, had to give up his beloved He was forced to embark on the road of applying for a job as a prince.

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THE DEATH KNELLChapter 67: War of God’s and Shadows
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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.”

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