MTL - Undead Farm - Chapter 501 Primal Spider Mother Advent

Yang Yi, along with everyone else, is thrust upon a Maritime Survival Game.Some lucky individuals possess special ships; the Iron Heart is armed to the teeth, the Swift Wind is so fast it’s almost invisible, and the Ironhead charges forward with a massive ram.Only the Nightmare, Yang Yi’s ghost ship, has strange and gory elements.The protagonist’s journey won’t be smooth sailing — this is not a story for the weak-hearted.

The world is made up of the five elements, and it could be divided into Yin and Yang.

Beneath the heavens, on the ancient divine center continent, billions of lives thrive in the prosperous era of the cultivation.

Across its vast lands, happiness, sadness, reunion, and separation played out in the long lives of those seeking immortalhood.

Light is always accompanied by darkness, and under the radiance of the heavens, there are silent shadows moving about…

- Description from Novelupdates

“Wait... Where am I and... who am i?”Just after he thought he was successfully betrayed and killed by his most favored surbodinate. Taylor finds himself on the floor of a remote alley“Don't tell me I got reincarnated?” Hutton muttered with a look of disbelief on his face.P.S; Join the novel discord server for any announcements or questions and answers sections

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.”