The Revival of the Vampire Empress! - Chapter 3: Beauty From The Grave

In the last life, Lin Yu Tong chose to fly with Shen Jun for his own happiness, whereby he ended up creating an irreparable regret for a lifetime. However, such a contribution has not been able to exchange the happiness of a lifetime. Shen was derailed and Lin Yu Tong had an accident.

Divine techniques? Heaven’s gifts? Divine Weapon? Special Abilities? Unique Skills? Heavenly Talents?No, I don’t need them because I can create Heavenly Laws!In the boundless expanse of the starry seas, Lin Yuan wielded the extraordinary ‘Gate to the Myriad Realms’, he can transmigrate his consciousness in various world and comprehend any path!Embarking on countless odysseys, Lin Yuan’s relentless quest for strength knew no bounds. Through the cosmic tapestry of diverse worlds, he quietly forged his path, ascending from the depths of mediocrity to an unparalleled force.With each journey, he honed his skills until, at last, he stood as an invincible presence, dominating across all realms. The saga of Lin Yuan is a mesmerizing tale of cosmic ascent and relentless growth.

When Cui Qichao’s ancient emperor blood awakened, he began to suppress the emperor’s instincts in various worlds…by crazily farming.

Yandi Shennong’s blood, quality farming guaranteed.

Cui Qichao: I love farming, farming makes me happy!

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”