PREVIEW

... ad punched the zombie, blowing its head off as soon as it lunged at Irenae.

- Khu khu khu!

As the zombie collapsed, spraying blood from its neck like a fountain, Elagon puffed up his cheeks and kept punching the air, showing off his ferociousness.

Elagon’s vicious punch had saved Irenae’s live.

‘Looks like it wasn’t just your body that changed.’

Henry could tell that Elagon’s speed had evolved drastically, given how fast he had reacted to the zombie, closi ...

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Su Xiuyi of the Great Zhou Dynasty and her beloved won the champion and second place respectively in the temple examinations, but in the face of the saint, Da Zhou Shenglong saw through the second place as the demon saint, the demon saint is noble, shemale The two clans never died.

The Emperor Zhou imprisoned the demon saint in the sky prison.

Su Xiuyi sneaked into the sky prison to let the demon saint woman go.

He was imprisoned in the Wanwen Academy, which is known to be ten dead and lifeless in the Academy, and could not take a step in his life.

Wanwenyuan, known as a place of ten deaths and no life, has never come out alive, and they have all been cursed to death by the curse of the courtyard. When Su Xiuyi was desperate, he signed in to the system.

When I first entered the Wanwen Academy, I signed a patch of Heavenly Pill.

In front of the Wensheng stele, I signed Abidao Sandao.

In the book building, the King of 4D, the strongest divine literary “Tao”, was signed in.

In front of the altar, a sign was signed for Ten Thousand Fairy Blood.

Su Xiuyi wanted to sign in silently until Invincible under Heaven came out of the mountain, but the demon saint of the past entered the imperial city, and Su Xiuyi also discovered her identity, which turned out to be…

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A princess's duty is to be beautiful, quiet, not loud, to be seen and not to be heard, which was how Dahlia lived most of her life. Bound by the expectations of her title, she spent years trying to prove to her father that she was more than just a princess and capable of being more than an ornament in his court but each time she never got the chance. Instead, she was forced into a marriage of convenience with the bravest knight in all the kingdom, Reagan Hawthorne.Dahlia thought she would use this marriage to escape the brutal crutches of her father and glide out of her cage but Reagan’s cold disdain was an unexpected prison of its own. While he waged wars on distant lands, she stayed behind, holding his household together and protecting the people he seemed to ignore. But Dahlia carried a dangerous secret. By day, she was the perfect wife. By night, she became the “Black Knight,” a masked vigilante fighting for justice in the shadows.Reagan returned, ready to focus on his personal mission: avenging his father’s death. To him, Dahlia was just another pawn in his plans—a spoiled princess he needed to tolerate. But as cracks began to form in her perfect façade, Reagan couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his wife than met the eye.Now, with enemies circling closer and their secrets threatening to collide, Dahlia and Reagan must confront the lies they’ve told themselves and each other. But when masks fall and truths are revealed, will their fragile bond withstand the storm—or will it shatter beyond repair?One wound. One secret. One night that changes everything.

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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.”