I Became A Cannon Fodder In A Female Protagonist Cultivation Novel - Chapter 85 The Confrontation In Acting Skills

Every overbearing president will always have a coquettish, pure, or lively white moonlight in their hearts. They are the vicious female partners in the novel, the stepping stones of the heroine, and the tool to promote the feelings of the hero and heroine. In the end, because of jealousy, run-down and decay she became a coquettish bit*h that everyone hated. However, one day-after Su Luó , who is unreasonable, indifferent and calm came… the domineering president of every world would be desperate, heartbroken, and desperate to make a living. Love is like poison, making people crazy and go crazy..

- Description from Novelupdates

The curtains to an epic of a continental power struggle are pulled open. There’s an entire empire in Dane’s heart!

Churches, tribes, prisons, forests, castles, graveyards, abysses . . . He controls the bases of all seven races in the fantasy epic war game, [Heart of Dynasty]; right before his eyes is the throne of a monarch!

Elf rangers pull your bows, the heavy-armoured knights are charging!

The Caesar Empire has collapsed. An era of war for the new ruler arises. The Kingdom sends endless expeditions; the Northern Alliance is unwilling to be excluded; the abyss and death begin to stir as they gaze upon the continent. Plots, tricks, religious wars. . . amidst these battles, only the victor can be called powerful!

Dane, holding a blade dripping with blood, says with bared teeth, “f*ck! Let me use my ass to see whether that seat at the top is comfortable or not!”

- 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.”

He was the one who would become the greatest monarch in history.

“The spot you had climbed once, there’s nothing you can’t climb again.”

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