Immortality Cultivation: I Can increase My Stats Using Clansmen s Qi-Blood - Chapter 469 - 222 Ke Chengsong Arrived_2

Swordsmanship and Dao unite? Shattering the void? Stop joking, speaking of Long Ao Tian transform into a girl body, male pig’s foot and female pig’s foot (internet slang for male lead and female lead) ‘s luck turn around, absolutely crushing people.
Wu Zhe, nicknamed no JJ, transmigrated and mystically fused together with a biomech.

Others pass through and become Japanese girl, he transmigrates to a Japanese girl that could be (thick fog)…..

Getting jailed right after transmigrating, suffering thirst and hunger; joining a sect and is watched attentively, wants to turn her into human cauldron; travelling in Jianghu and is forced to participate in trials, even joining in suicide squads….

Yet Wu Zhe remains alive and kicking. Because…. This new body seems to have a lot of mysteries, unexpectedly could rely on womanly basis to evolve into different forms to survive.

Bosom isn’t flat how one can pacify the world, breasts aren’t big how one can gather people’s will (*). This is the biomech’s joyous life in XuanQi world.

Wu Zhe says: “The most fortunate after transmigrating is, perfectly justifiable to walk in female hot spring….”

- Description from Novelupdates

The heroine I was rooting for was not chosen.

Then wouldn’t it be okay if I made her happy instead?The heroine I was rooting for was not chosen.

Then wouldn’t it be okay if I made her happy instead?

Benedict was transported to a world of cultivation and awakened the Invincible Domain system. Within this domain, he was invincible!

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.”