Apocalypse: Living with a Cute Baby - Chapter 19

Zhang Yifan is actually a good person, that is, the virtue of being unwilling to sit when you can lie down, not willing to stand when you can sit, and not willing to walk when you can stand …

In order to achieve this goal, he can only continue to work hard …
Just don’t know why, he somehow has great achievements in the science and technology world …..

Zhang Yifan: “I don’t know, I’m also very strange …”

- Description from Uukanshu

Through a chaotic world rife with war, where demons roamed freely, he found himself in the body of the patriarch of the Luo family, whose life was nearing its end, with one foot already in the grave.Just after arriving, he was about to die?What kind of mortal suffering was this?Just as Luo Changfeng felt bewildered and on the brink of despair, he discovered that he could actually consume the vital energy of the Luo Family members to increase his attributes.A little tap, and his lifespan grew.A little tap, and his cultivation soared.A little tap, and his cultivation technique reached perfection.Thus, Luo Changfeng embarked on a path of empowering his family, continually drawing upon their vitality to strengthen himself.

There are 2 paths to achieve the peak of power, the Tenth Stage.Gain the recognition of Laws and ascend as a God.Or Cultivate thyself as an Immortal.With his Master unparalleled in Energy Manipulation and Space-Time, watch as Fang Lin achieve both!!!Burdened with a master that can shake cities and crush mountains, Fang Lin travels the realm, cleaning up after his master's messes!!!Discord Link: https://discord.gg/uS8FvQG

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.”