Soul Land IV (Douluo Dalu) : Ultimate Fighting - Chapter 850 - C.: Tang Zhenhua Wants to Enter the Seven Saint Abyss

Failing at the ceremony, Ethan became a Broken Carrier, the worst and weakest of them all.In this world where abilities had to be created and found through the Patterns, Ethan had no choice but to risk everything to change his fate.“So this is my Construct?” Ethan gazed at the massive gears of his core, preparing to harness a new power.The weakest carriers could always become the strongest, all that was needed were methods, desperate and risky, just like the world itself.

“Hubby, I don't want anymore, I feel terrible...” “Baby, be good, finish up this medicine.”The handsome man embraces the woman in his arms, coaxing her tenderly as he feeds her the medicine.Joanna Lawrence stumbles upon Ashton Heath, the most esteemed scion in all of Closia City, and ends up sleeping with him for the night. After he offers her benefits in exchange for their marriage, the newly appointed Mrs Heath suddenly has the power to have everything she ever wished for.“Hubby, I slapped the Movie Queen Faye today, was I too much?”“Baby, does your hand hurt? Let me rub it for you.”“Hubby, I maxed out your credit card, are you angry?”“Baby, are you happy with your purchase? Let me know when you need more.”“Hubby, I'm tired today, I don't want to move...”

Before her rebirth, Song Ran lived a lone and miserable life. Her innocence and naiveness cost her fortune. Her family assets was wasted by the stepmother, and her man stolen by her very best friend. After she was reborn, having the scales fallen from her eyes, Song Ran learned from her mistakes. The first thing she needed to do was ride on the coattail of her man with a promissing future, Mr. Gu.

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.”