PREVIEW

... th a hoarse voice full of resentment and pain, “… those human beings are even more ruthless than the demons in hell. We watched our brothers and sisters die in their hands one by one, but there was nothing we could do. King, you must avenge us!”


After the young man finished speaking, he slammed his head on the ground.


The other beastkins who were kneeling behind the young man recalled their painful experience during this period and remembered those relatives and friends w ...

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The entire entertainment circle knew that whenever leading actress Du Yu Shu and Emperor Ye Jingan encountered each other, in their free time they would speak with poison on their tongues and release gunpowder all around them in the air-ready to destroy, their poor relationship was to the point where fans from both sides had already given up on fighting with each other.

But no one knew that Du Yu Shu was actually a very big fan of Ye Jingan, every day she would go online and praise him #bow to male god, #male god is very handsome, #male god I want to give birth to a little monkey with you, #give birth a flower goddess # fan in true love;

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—I heard you like me?

—So?

—Well I like you,

—I like you too.

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When the news broke out that Ye Jingan and Du Yu Shu would attend the same reality show, fans from both sides started crying tears→

→ Fan A: goddess, why didn’t you think this through clearly! A good reality show will become a murder scene, the director will cry!

Fans II: In order for the program to run without any problems, the director must not put male god and goddess in the same group ah!

Fans three: I think the real purpose of the reality show is to make Male God and Goddess’s battle of the sharp tongues into a full on war-conflict!

A year later, Ye Jingan made a Weibo posting :

Ye Jingan V: Thank you, we are together.

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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.”