The Reticent Blade - Chapter 94 - Entering Yuanyang at Night

Due to a bug in the game, Ren Changsheng accidentally left the game idle for ten million years.As he watched the endless stream of experience points, all Ren Changsheng could think was, 'I really do not want to level up!'

“I shall fuck every woman's hole and mouth until I become the undefeated vampire lord of lust!”

With a demoness of lust fell on his boner, Zoravec, a 19 years old seemingly human struggled to keep his carnal desires in control.

The only one way to find his mate is dual cultivate with every single existing woman! But things go wrong when his vampire blood activated the bloodlust, and his first sex partner dies of blood loss.

Zoravec has no bloodline due to his mixed blood. But his power outbursts are no match for other vampire nobles. Especially with the huge harem of beauties who possess every kind of lethal power, who are at his beck and call.

What chaos will the hatred towards his own kind bring?

On the wedding day, her fiancé and his lover had a love affair and eloped. Her eyes were dim, she seized the man in front of the Civil Affairs Bureau.”To sum it up, your bride is not here, my groom ran off, wouldn’t it be better if we… fight together?”. Before marriage, she said, “Even on the bed, between me and you, there will not be anything!” After the marriage, he said, “Do not try, how do you know?”

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.”