Apocalypse: I Can See the HP Bar, Killing Monsters Drops Loot - Chapter 145 - 100 Li Qiuyu, Spoils of War 3

Summary 1) Tang Yuan suffered from a strange illness, so because of this, Tang Yuan pounced upon Xie Yu. A month later, Tang Yuan discovered that Xie Yu was a big shot in the world of tianshi (Taoist Masters), his existence the greatest fear of numerous ghosts. But that big shot was now obligated to marry him, because he was carrying the big shot’s steamed bun.

One year later:
Xie Yu: “Isn’t it time for our pup to be born?”
Two years later:
Xie Yu: “Don’t worry about it. Maybe you’re carrying a nezha (protection deity who was carried for 3.5 years in mother’s womb)?”
Three years later:
Xie Yu: “You really are probably carrying a nezha!”
Ten Years later:
Xie Yu: “Shall we not just give birth to this child? Since he’s obviously not ready, let’s beat him up!”
Pup: “I will remember this animosity for the rest of my life!”

After being carried for ten years and one month, the steamed bun was finally born. The steamed bun was white and tender at birth, extremely loveable. But on just his first day after being born, the steamed bun kicked his father, Xie Yu, in the face with his tender foot.

Summary 2) After Tang Yuan became pregnant with a steamed bun, life was a little difficult, with catching ghosts and also giving prenatal education to their child, yes, prenatal education. But he did teach, he taught for ten whole years. Then Tang Yuan said: Who wants a bratty steamed bun? Who wants me to give them one?

Shou, Tang Yuan, a heavens-defying genius VS Gong, Xie Yu, with off the charts gentleness

Not a scientific/natural pregnancy, no pregnant belly, the steamed bun is born in the final arc (though the steamed bun often appears), fluffy supernatural story, try not to be too scared.

- Description from Novelupdates

An old baseball player gets another chance to live the sport he loves, but this time as a system! The son of one of Japan's greatest pitchers has a dream to follow in his father's footsteps and become a great professional, but he has a major problem, lack of talent.Follow the journey of Shun Takahashi, a young baseball player without talent who receives the old baseball player system. Hellish training, legendary skills, impossible missions, good friends, talented rivals, and maybe luck in love. Shun and the system have a complicated relationship, but they both share the same goal, to be the greatest of all time!

As an underworld boss who has been in the ladder all the year round, You Feng specially uses various non-mainstream underworld decks to climb to the duel king of the ladder in one go.

Also known as a cancer.

I didn’t expect to cross into the mixed world of DM, GX and 5DS!

You Feng defeated the major powerhouses with absolute capital, seized their cards, and then began to research and combine all kinds of fancy tumor card groups.

The most important thing is that such a tumor, the guardian spirit is still the creator god of light! !

“Is this the God of Creation of Light? What!! It turned out to be You Feng’s?” Muto Game.

“You call the cancer a **** god?” Haima Lairen’s mouth twitched.

“I never take the initiative to pull out screws! Except for facing You Feng! It’s too poisonous.” Do not move Yu Xing.

“What kind of dark dueling elf, how can You Feng be scary?” Youcheng Shidai.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”