MTL - Sweetest Top Actress in My Home - Chapter 875 Miss me

Ancient existences wake up in the abyss, demons whisper in people’s ears, unknown horrors erode the spirit, and madness breeds in the darkness of people’s hearts.

But it is not only darkness that descends on this world.

There are heavily armed dark knights walking in the dark to judge crimes; tight-fitting supernatural beings wandering between buildings to act as friendly neighbors; The impossible god on earth, the “S” symbolizing hope shines like the sun on his chest…

No one could have imagined that behind all of them, there was just a player sitting in front of a computer screen holding a keyboard and punching hard.

- Description from novelbuddy

Bei Yinuan, the young master of the modern Wu family, as the heir of the Wu family, has tenth level of witch power, a 100% genius, known to everyone in the metaphysics world, and was once designed to be inserted into a novel .

In the world of comprehension, there is always a genius who is famous both at home and abroad, a son of an aristocratic family, whose appearance and character are not inferior to the protagonist, but this setting is always the male second.

Zhenjun Beihan of the Longyuan Sect is the talented and beautiful Xiu·Nan Er·xian genius who is well-known both at home and abroad.

Zhenjun Beihan exists with equal strength and appearance. When mentioning this Zhenjun, everyone praises him for being magnificent, but this Shuangjue has a number one black fan, a black fan nephew who smears him all the time… …

Welcome to the new female disguised work “This Daoist is too serious”

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”