Top Tier Providence, Secretly Cultivate for a Thousand Years - Chapter 1108 - Han Jue’s Grandson

The world was destroyed, the apocalypse descended, a new era began, and the right to survive as a Lord was granted to every person.Domains, Heroes, Troops, Treasures, Resources—all of the countless servers constructed by the myriad continents were opened up.Qin Muye looked at his panel, which was akin to cannon fodder, and his domain with its damaged suffix, and felt a strong urge to cry but no tears would come.No divine talent, no hidden hints, no overpowered Profession.“If that's the case, then I'll just have to adapt and live in a different way.”

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.”

For the wine to be drunk on her wedding night to actually have been a cup of poison and for the one to poison her to be her husband, who would believe it?

She died in her prime as the Queen of Song.

After being reincarnated, she becomes a simple trainee.

Losing her former glory? It doesn’t matter—no one can compete with her voice as a beautiful singer.

Mocked by her lowly birth? It doesn’t matter—her true identity is enough to make the whole world tremble.

She owes huge debts? It doesn’t matter…

A powerful boss once whispered to her, “Your debt will disappear if you become my woman.”

But the proud her would reply, “I’m sorry. I would sell my art, but not myself.”