Lord of the Karmic Fate - Chapter 4 Dice Of Fate & First Realm Game: Hide Or Die!

The Spirit Network, known as【Deep Sea】 connected five continents as human civilization surged forward; yet, they were oblivious to the impending eternal night. With the Extraordinary Awakening, the edifice was about to collapse. Flesh is weak and pitiful, how could one ascend? The story began when Gu Shen, an ordinary youth, received a ruler that bore the truth. He peeled back the corner of this extraordinary world, becoming the largest moth among the thousands that dashed into the flames. If winter is coming, I will climb against the steps, overturn the thrones of kings, shatter the crowns of falsehood, destroy the scepters of injustice. I will become humanity's last, Bright Barrier.

Li Quangqing traversed to the cultivation world and became a family fisherman, starting with twenty acres of fish ponds.Unexpectedly, every time spiritual fish were harvested, a reward orb could be obtained.[Harvested one adult big green fish, received a lower-grade water arrow talisman!][Harvested one adult iron bone crab, received the “Gengjin Sword Technique”!][Harvested one adult longevity turtle, received the “Gui Sui Shou” pill, prolonging life by twenty years!]...Since then, Li Quangqing watched the tides rise and fall in the world, the wind and clouds changing, wanting only to raise fish and become immortal peacefully.Until thousands of years later, a certain Water Virtue True Immortal appeared out of nowhere, shaking the immortal realm, capable of covering the sky with one hand.“Since the Milky Way is also a river, it's okay for me to use it for fish farming, right?”

Tong Huaqiong transmigrated to ancient times into the body of the malicious widow Tong Dajiao and witnessed the execution scene where the malicious widow and her children were wiped out. She returned to the year Tong Dajiao had just become a widow.At the age of forty, she was already a grandmother, embodying the roles of both a wicked stepmother and mother-in-law. Naturally, the children she raised were bad bamboo shoots.The only slight comfort she felt was that, as a widow, she didn't have to serve an old husband.In this transmigration story, she lacked all the golden fingers like systems or noble birth.She didn't even have the chance to rise through marriage. Who could a widow marry? Especially with a bunch of burdens.She could only rely on herself and her bunch of bad bamboos at home.Revitalize the family reputation, correct the children's behavior.Treat stepchildren, daughters-in-law, and granddaughters kindly, dismiss the plan of her youngest son to sell his granddaughter to a wealthy family in exchange for tuition fees, force the youngest son to strive through education on his own, use a stick to awaken the second son from being lazy and spoiled to becoming the family's backbone, and rid the youngest daughter of laziness, greed, and love-brain.Reclaim wasteland and plant crops using modern scientific knowledge, turning saline-alkali land into fertile fields, leading the whole family towards a moderately prosperous life; start a business from street vending, selling steamed buns, pastries, marinated dishes, raising pigs, beekeeping... gradually expanding their commercial territory.

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.”