Goddess Helps Me Simulate Cultivation - Chapter 358 - One Palm! Fu Shuangni: I Seem to

In a world where dungeon runners rise to fame by mastering their classes and conquering impossible threats, Alexander was never meant to be part of it. No class. No path. Just a quiet life.When a mysterious portal drags him into a hidden realm known as his Inner Path, Alexander unlocks a class no one has seen before: Beholder. There’s no fanfare. No guidance. Only eyes that see too much, and power that threatens to unravel his mind with every use.Now, trapped in an abyssal dungeon that reshapes itself around eldritch laws, Alexander must survive alone.But with each victory, his vision sharpens. His spells twist reality. And the deeper he goes, the more the world outside should start to worry.Because when he returns-They won’t be able to look away.

[A Slime Monster Evolution LitRPG]Our protagonist was set for what should have been a good life; born as a noble prodigy with a talent for Dimension Magic.Unfortunately, they did not get a chance to live that life of adventure, wonder, and accomplishment as they died an early death.However, a kind(?) grandpa gives our protagonist a choice for the next life; instead of having a generic life starting from zero, why not join one of his experimental reincarnations not yet approved?However, the experiment was a lot... Slimier than expected.What to expect?- Monster evolution and mutation- Traits and skills- Collect-a-Thon- Lots of experimentation- Adventurers and Dungeons- Deception and Disguises- Magic- Lots of slime

This is a story of Xia An, a transmigrator from the end of the world, who transmigrates into the body of a cannon fodder who was the mother of the villain.

- Description from Wattpad

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.”