Supreme Monarch - Chapter 296 C296. Taking Action

After marriage—On Valentine's Day, Han Jingnian asked, “How are we spending today?”Wrapped up in her blanket and close to falling asleep, Xia Wan'an mumbled, “Sleep.”On Christmas Day, Han Jingnian asked, “How are we spending today?”With her arms around her pillow, Xia Wan'an casually replied, “Sleep.”On their wedding anniversary, holding a cup of water, Han Jingnian asked, “How are we spending today?”Cozied up in bed, with sleepy eyes, Xia Wan'an looked at Han Jingnian, wary of the water he might spill on the bed. She thought for a moment, then replied, “With you... together.”

This novel is about Chen Feng, a down on his luck kid of unknown origin, and the famed trash of a backwater sect. He is so unlucky, he even ended up getting struck by someone else’s Tribulation Lightning. And yet, maybe not.

For when the Tribulation Lightning descended upon him, it triggered something that he had been carrying with him all this time, granting him a cultivation technique so powerful, it would turn his world upside down.

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.”

“Is this a game, or did aliens make me time-travel?”

“It’s terrifying, people who die in the game actually die in the real world!”

“Damn, the whole city is mine, and there are still things that can be brought from the game to the real world, it’s just…”

Song Jian aimlessly wandered through the empty city, accompanied only by mutated zombies and monsters. His only goal now was to survive in such a zombie-infested Doomsday City.

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