THE DEATH KNELL - Chapter 32: THE PRICE OF POWER

Lu Lingxi died.

As a child born by his parents through precise genetic matching, for eighteen years of his life, he lived entirely for his brother, who had leukaemia. He was his brother’s shadow, a “medicine reserve bank” for his brother’s treatment needs.

Umbilical cord blood, stem cells, bone marrow… whenever his brother needed it, he would have no choice but to quietly lie on the operating table.

Until the last time, when his brother needed a kidney and he never came off the operating table.

When he opened his eyes again, Lu Lingxi became a teenager with the same name Lu Lingxi.

Freed from the shackles of his fate, he possesses the mysterious ability to communicate with plants.

Raising flowers, gardening and running a farm, Lu Lingxi begins a very different life!

“How did you board the Astral Express, walk the Path of the Stars?”“Because I ended the Honkai, altered everyone's fate.”“So your first step on this path was becoming a hero?”“No, it was for survival, searching for a thigh to cling to.”“And then?”Ryan adjusted his glasses, his voice resounding.“I became the thigh.”

BL manhua artist, Ti Xiao, has been single for many years. As such, he is under constant pressure to find a partner and get married. His family’s little niece shipped him together with her school’s English teacher to form a CP. The editor at work also want to introduce their friend to him. One day, a new neighbour moved in next door. He couldn’t help but notice that he seemed kind of reserved and cold. After getting a glimpse of him, he was ready to make trouble. He used his numerous ninja skills to discover his new neighbour’s identity. It turned out he was the English teacher at his niece’s school! Not only did he like his work and was his fan, but he was also his editor’s friend!

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”