PREVIEW

... gysail’s Miracle Army felt the Supreme Lord’s will. No further orders were needed; they had already set out to intercept the enemy.

Yellow Spring and Asura, two Third Awakening Miracle Entities in Iceland, almost nobody could match them in battle.

Especially Asura, once he took action, the sky turned blood-red, and the entire world seemed to become a purgatory, countless Evil Ghosts crawling from Hell, slaughtering the Giant Tribe on this island to near extinction.

“But.” ...

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In Victorian England, occult practitioners and the Nightmen Police, who hunted occult practitioners, were at odds and engaged in a fight to the death. Legend has it that one of the occult practitioners was a mysterious merchant who ran the world’s largest underground black market in the occult arts, offering a variety of rare treasures. Word says that the Nightmen have a newly appointed young detective whose decisive actions have solved many cases, and occult practitioners are terror-stricken hearing his name.

Duan FeiZhou: Good, both are me.

He transmigrated to this era because he accidentally clicked on an email titled “Congratulations on your million dollar inheritance” and confusingly agreed to join the Nightmen’s side to fight against the occult practitioners.

Who knew that the next day he would inherit a mysterious inheritance from his uncle – the owner of the world’s most prominent black market of secret arts underground trading… This was a bit awkward.

Duan FeiZhou decided to stay away from the strife to avoid falling off the horse and became a salted fish.

On the one hand, crazy black market customers hope that the black market will close down as soon as possible. On the other hand, the Nightmen are negatively idle, hoping that he is quickly fired. However, the more he rushed customers, the more the business of the black market became red hot. The more negativity, the more he was promoted in the Nightmen.

Seeing that the double-sided was becoming a bigger hassle, he was afraid his mask would fall off..

The Scotland Yard’s NIghtmen Leader, code name Z, has white hair, blind eyes, mechanical prosthetics, metal spine, all from war damage; his hobby is hand-rolling cigars, and if he can not save the hostages, he will shoot them together with the criminals. His highest ideal in life is to exterminate all the occult practitioners in the world.

He thought he had a heart of gold with a painful past, but step by step, he was impressed and conquered by the new young Nightman… He also reformed him.

Until one day, he learned that the young man who tugged at his heartstrings was his lifelong enemy – the owner of the world’s largest underground black market for secret arts.

Z: Oh well.

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At the peak of her career, A-list actress Song Ning announced her withdrawal from the entertainment industry for love, shocking the nation.Everyone thought that she must have found her ideal home. That was why she was so determined.At first, Song Ning thought so too. For the rest of her life, she would not be a celebrity. She would only be a virtuous and virtuous woman who would take care of her husband and children at home.However, on the night before their wedding, she found out that her fiancé was having an affair with her best friend.Enraged, Song Ning found a random man to register their marriage at the entrance of the Civil Affairs Bureau.She originally wanted to take revenge on her scumbag fiancé, but she did not expect that the man who registered his marriage with her was the heir of nation's largest financial group, Mu Chen.After they got married, Mu Chen doted on Song Ning and protected her in every way possible. He didn't allow anyone to bully her.Song Ning always thought that she would be happy for the rest of her life and live the best life she wanted.That's right, she got it. It was just a little different from what she had originally imagined. The person who gave her everything was someone else.Many years later…Song Ning looked at Mu Chen affectionately. "I'm really lucky. Thank God I met you and saved me from hell."Mu Chen smiled faintly. “Yes, thank God.”However, Song Ning would never know. Mu Chen wasn't talking about thanking God for letting him meet Song Ning. He was thanking God for letting Song Ning's fiancé cheated on her so that he would have a chance.There was no such thing as an accidental encounter. It was just a premeditated pursuit.That day, he waited for Song Ning outside the Civil Affairs Bureau for ten hours…

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She was born into a powerful family of the nobility, a blue-blooded aristocrat as capable as any man. He rose from humble origins up the military ranks, an iron-blooded knight with high ambitions. A transaction for power severed her from her childhood sweetheart. A tardy encounter was the beginning of his and her vow to meet life and death under heaven, standing shoulder to shoulder.

Political intrigue, dynastic succession struggles. He trampled through it all in the toil of becoming emperor.

Old enmities became new disputes, concerning life and death of entire families. She entered once more into the palace, changing the entire political climate of their world.

Meeting once again, they had become strangers. The peach blossom were all fallen, no more than a golden age grown cold.

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THE DEATH KNELLChapter 67: War of God’s and Shadows
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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.”