PREVIEW

... tempting to flee, the engravings on the Earthly Sovereign Bell’s wall—the sun, moon and stars, the mountains, rivers and lands, the cities and villages, the people farming, fishing and hunting—abruptly came to life.

Countless images surfaced from the wall, flowed, and spread outward until they finally formed a gigantic painting that connected heaven and earth!

From the painting, one could hear the sounds of recital, see columns of smoke rising from chimneys, experience the hustle ...

YOU MAY ALSO LIKE
Cultivating by picking up attriChapter 225 - : Chapter 141:1 am the Sword Immortal_2
 12.2k
3.3/5(votes)
ActionEasternFantasyMartial Arts

The Fallen SpectatorChapter 27: Night Gathering
 353
4.5/5(votes)
EasternActionAdventureMystery

Lucian, a guy who can exist in both times, day and night, was chased by both. An enemy of the world. A survivor who thought he was a hero, a world saviour, but it wasn't as he thought; he wasn't a hero, he didn’t even know the truth, the truth he knew was flawed, causing more harm than help to the world.When he got to know the truth, it was already too late. The world had fallen, but it wasn’t the end. It was the beginning of destruction.

MTL - NBA: No. 1 ForwardChapter 617 The beginning of a new era!
 269.3k
4.1/5(votes)
Sports

“If I do it all over again, give me excellent physical talent, and give me excellent skills, I will definitely be like those historical NBA superstars.”

Lian Dao originally thought that the above imagination would only appear in dreams, but he didn’t expect that such a “good thing” would suddenly happen to him one day.

- Description from novelbuddy

THE DEATH KNELLChapter 67: War of God’s and Shadows
 340
4.5/5(votes)
FantasyActionAdventureHarem

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.”