Springtime Farming: A Happy Wife At Home - Chapter 91 - 91 Eldest Uncle Stuck

ive years ago, the Ye family was destroyed, and the waste Ye Chen was ridiculed like a worm on the ground!

Five years later, the Ye family trash came back! He came back with a cultivating base of weeping ghosts and gods!

This time, Ye Chen wanted to let the sky awe! Let the earth tremble! Be in charge of everything and reach the top of the sky!

This is an extremely arrogant story that pretends to be a pig and eat a tiger!

PS: This book is guaranteed! Another 4 million words best-selling fire book is being serialized!

Ruel finds himself thrust into a brutal post-apocalyptic world, bound to a bizarre “Milf System.” This system demands morally questionable acts – NTR, seducing milfs, and claiming other men's wives – as the sole means of gaining strength and essential survival skills.The brutal reality of this new world awakens Ruel's hidden lust and dark desires. He swiftly abandons any semblance of morality, embracing the system's perverse demands with growing fervor.Driven by an insatiable hunger for power and pleasure, Ruel revels in the ravages he inflicts, using his newfound abilities to dominate and conquer.His journey transforms him into a ruthless force, where survival is intertwined with the satisfaction of his darkest urges, leaving a trail of broken relationships and conquered women in his wake.

Shen Yu's world is facing the apocalypse. With the help of his Gray Mist Space, he could do good things such as saving lives to gain more gray mist and use it to do everything he wants to do. And what's more, no one but him can survive in the Space. However, this time, two figures walk out of the Space, and when they spin around, Shen Yu is shocked, because the two figures are all him from different worlds.“Your world is facing an apocalypse too?”“Indeed.”

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.”