The Primal Hunter - Chapter 1119: "Great... just great."

After catching his wife in bed with another man, Alex died of a heart attack—only to be reincarnated in another world with a MILF System in the frail body of Asher, a sickly teenager.Betrayed and furious for his wife's infidelity, he vows to punish unfaithful women and seize control in his new world. But there's one problem: in this world, women reign supreme over men, blessed with overwhelming strength by the goddess herself. Outmatched and underestimated, Asher refuses to accept his place at the bottom. With the MILF System at his side, he’ll do whatever it takes to shatter the hierarchy and claim absolute dominance—even if it means conquering every woman in his path until he reaches the heavens to claim the ultimate MILF herself: the goddess.But can he rise to power in a world where men are nothing more than playthings?Find out in this wild, boundary-pushing saga!Disclaimer: This book contains intense sexual content and themes of incest. Reader discretion is advised.

When I entered for the Film Academy, the examiner arranged a crying scene for me. I pinched my thighs blue but still no tears came out, but now, oh.

Chen You held a cigarette with his mouth, give me ten seconds, I can cry like a dog, a dead dog.

444: Film Emperor, it’s time to go to the next set.

- 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.”

Nine harmonic zither chords shook the universe, who dared to not acknowledge the lord?