The Strongest Dragon in the Era of Beast Taming - Chapter 860 - 854: Middle Thousand Worlds

Five years ago, Violet Don was framed and accused of causing the death of Noah Bates's child. This led to Noah's sending her to prison and the downfall of her family. What he didn't know was that Violet was also carrying his child.Five years later, upon Violet's release, Noah corners her, demanding, “If you want your child, come and atone for your sins!”Violet smiles, “You can let him call anyone mom.”Noah, filled with hatred, says, “After five years in prison, how can you still be so cruel!”“Yes,” Violet's eyes redden as she smiles, “In your eyes, I'm a murderer.”Later, he finds out that he has owed her an apology all along. But by then, she no longer cares...

He has won the most flamboyant compliments and the most vicious swear words.

He is a guy with rebellion flowing in every vein in his body.

He’s a white kid who’ll never be a celebrity.

He is a young man from the countryside in the eyes of the public.

He’s Tommy Hawk.

He was born again.

Welcome to the first half of the American Dream and the second half of the American Nightmare.

Let us please, come Tommy Hawke, in the winter of 2022.

- Description from novelbuddy

The mountain man, an immortal, roams the peak of Qingyun.In the furnace of Yin Yang, he refines, The Great Dao Path stirs within his heart.Luo Chen traverses through the Cultivation World, empowered with a Proficiency Panel. With pill refinement and Qi refinement, he steps towards the Path of Longevity.

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.”