God of Illusions - Chapter 952: Liberation, From Now On!

The new book will be released at 8 o’clock tonight, I hope you can support me, thank you! ! !

The plane crashed, Ye Jinzhi crossed back with his golden finger,

Looking at the mess left by the original owner, and the three sons who are waiting to be fed, Ye Jinzhi feels that the whole person is not good in an instant.

- Description from novelbuddy

In short, MC inadvertently created a world, but as the creator of the world, he did not know the world at all. He should have lived here like a fish in the sea with some plug-ins that MCs always have. But now he is even stumped by the bugs in the instant world. Luckily, in this world he has found his shadow guard, or his lover? So the daily adventure is getting not so boring…

- Description from Novelupdates

There are only two destined outcomes for an illegitimate child of the Meng family.

One is to be useful and then being used to death. The other is to be exploited for being a useless person.

After being reborn, Meng Ting chooses the second option without the slightest hesitation.

As a result, he’s being married off.

“Oh.” =.=

***

This is a story of a beautiful young man who wants to become a degenerate after coming back to life from death, but is rejected by his upstanding husband in various ways.

This is a story of saving others, and being saved by others in return.

You are my beloved, and I am the light of your life.

Meng Ting: “Nonsense…”

Yan Sui: “Everything my wife says is correct.”

- 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.”