I am a Primitive Man - Chapter 707: No Time to Escape

A young boy genius, Suo Jia, is a water mage who dreams of being a warrior travelling the great and dangerous trade routes to find his lost father that set off on them before Suo Jia was born. Having to look after his sick mother, Suo Jia manages to find a way to solve all their problems, as well as make a name for himself. He gathers nobility, vast wealth, items of great power, knowledge lost to the ages, and exceptionally talented females around him as he plots and plans – preparing to set off on an epic journey that will go down in history as a new legend. However, will others that depend on his powers so much be willing to let him go on such a dangerous journey so easily?

Xuanyuan was reborn into a strange new world where training to be a Xian was a cornerstone. There was however something ancient dwelling inside his body. He could now devour all of creation…

This is the journey of an ordinary boy and his transformation into the supreme being that reigns over all existence! Everywhere he went, he could not help but tie his fate with numerous women. It did not matter whether they were a goddess or a devil…

- Description from Novelupdates

She is the underworld Ghost Doctor’s only disciple, who accidentally transmigrated into the body of the main wife’s daughter in the general’s mansion. She used to be a punching bag.Now, she stepped on her dregs of an older sister, put her father’s concubine in her place, and teaches any objectionable aristocratic ladies a lesson.

Her days are rather free and unfettered. But when did that cold as ice prince from the rumors, sporting a deadpan face all day long, fix his gaze on her?
He unexpectedly fawned and pandered to her like a devoted dog?

“Go away, you rotten man! Careful or I’ll needle you like a pin cushion!”

“Wife, why are you so fierce? As a husband, I’m so scared”
….the man is all smiles as he approached, his eyes gleaming with a cunning light.

- 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.”