Past Life Returner - Chapter 139

The course of commitments never did run smooth.

Traveling through time and space to become the protagonist of the Ninja World, Uzumaki Xin activated the heaven-defying enlightenment system, he can create everything from scratch, make miracles with one snap of his finger, change the destiny of anyone he sees, and most importantly is he can create the most powerful family that no one ever sees or hear.This is the story of the rise of a fallen family from ash and taking revenge on those who betrayed them.“Will of Fire?”“I will show you what fire is.”“The Will of Uzumaki, Bankai: Ryūjin Jakka!”.............For More advance Chapter Please Visit > https://www.patreon.com/Apple695

In an accident, Zhao Xu had the ability to make various items. Jewellery, antiques, and crafts are all trivial. Sir, would you like to have a unique sports car?

Come to me, Batman Chariot gives you extreme enjoyment! What, do you want Iron Man armor? Sorry, how about I buy it for Megatron as a bodyguard? Carrier groups invade your territory?

Don’t be afraid, the Avengers Sky Carrier will let you know what a domineering side leak is!

Rich people, come on, let your banknotes tremble, our slogan is: “Sows can go up the tree, dreams can come true!”

- Description from fpzw

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.”