Wandering Meteor - Chapter 19: Conspiracy Schemes!

Song Yuan accidentally picked up a 5-year-old child.

The child has bright eyes, chiseled features, and prideful demeanor. He referred to himself as “this prince” and his mannerism was wild, cool, and stuck up.

“This prince will never eat such lowly food!”

“How dare you flirt with other men behind the back of my imperial father?”

“He insulted this prince and you sided with him? This prince will sentence his entire clan to death!”

Song Yuan was very disturbed. The DNA test had confirmed that the child was, indeed, her son, but why did he act like he was delusional?

More importantly, who was the father of the child?

The prince was going mad from worrying; Imperial Father, if you don’t come soon, Imperial Mother is really going to cheat on you!

- Description from Novelupdates

The dark underground dungeon was filled with countless ancient relics and treasures. Eerie, deformed, cursed objects... The abyss, catacombs, Ancient Gods, mythical races... Mechanics, cursed seal implants, and the gargantuan black towers... A peculiar mix of Alchemy, a drop of steampunk, two spoons of supernatural mystery, blending into a vibrant and colorful fantasy world. I am a puppeteer Alchemist. All that my eyes behold, becomes my puppet. Alone, I am an army!

Pinnacle of martial, mountain shifting and sea filling, catching stars and seizing the moon, reverse the flow of time!

Extremity of the sword, one sword to form the dao, one sword to reach the immortals, one sword to break the laws!

The young Li Fuchen, chanced upon the Golden Talisman which allowed his spirit soul to constantly evolve. In this world where prodigies and experts were everywhere, he used the sword in his hand to ascend to the absolute pinnacle.

The world will decay one day, but my reverence shall be eternal.

- 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.”