Shadow Rogue - Chapter 137 – The Shadow Rogue and The Sly Hand

【You will encounter gongs in different worlds with different temperaments and different emotions. They are fine and loyal dogs. 】

【You are superior in appearance, they will love you at first sight, willing to sacrifice all, but soon they will get bored, betray, cheat】

【You are vengeful, and want to take revenge on that slag gong】

“Can.” Qin Mu then put forward his own requirements. “To fall in love, they first must have a good waist and long legs. The abdominal muscles must have eight blocks to satisfy me. As for the face, I am not superficial, as long as it’s of the highest quality I don’t mind.”

The thieves are caught, and those slag gongs take for granted that because Qin Mu loves them, he will choose to forgive them.【Smile】

However Qin Mu, who is cold to the bones, only smokes a cigarette and expresses his deep love to a new lover. “Beauty, I want to be with you.”

The slag gongs, “Please come back to me, I will never leave you… If you don’t agree and continue to hook up with other people, then I can only break your legs and lock you up. From now on, only I can see you.”

- Description from Novelupdates

Cole Raden was a previous veteran who becomes entangled in a series of Conspiracies by supernatural Factions and entities. Forced to retaliate, Cole must use his experience and instincts to survive by any means possible, till he ties all threads and frees himself from the chain of bondage.Will he make it out with In tact? or will he loose something greater than his life in the process? only time can tell and his decisions along the way may shape final resulthttps://discord.gg/qAbZX9k5A

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.”