Post-Mythical Era: I don't want to die in the third reincarnation - Chapter 37 - 35 The Murderer is Ding Huan

In the bustling fantasy city of Two Ex-Adventurers, Dord, Orth, and Sirre Willow struggle to keep their humble inn afloat. On the surface, Orth and Sirre appear to be the perfect couple, but deep within Orth’s heart lies a secret desire—a cuckold fantasy he has never dared to share. When a mysterious traveler offers to pay for a night with Sirre, it stirs a whirlwind of emotions in Orth. He sees an opportunity to confront his hidden longing and solve their financial troubles in one move. But how will Sirre, who would go to any length to keep Orth devoted to her, respond to such a twisted proposal?This is a netorase story about a loving couple.Clingy Lover Doting Love Interests Magic Male Protagonist Masochistic Characters Netorare Netorase Obsessive Love Prostitutes Yandere

Li Fenglan, the number one person in the world of cultivation and an immortalization stage immortal, fell into qi deviation. He was spurned by thousands of people for doing evil things, split the Underworld River with a single sword, and had the whole cultivation world unify to beat him until his soul scattered. Only after his death did he realize that he was the villain in the novel.

Li Fenglan: This immortal has a swear word he doesn’t know…..

He never thought that a thousand years later, Li Fenglan would be revived inexplicably, and become a disfigured cannon fodder with all his spiritual roots crippled.

Then he discovered that something was wrong with the plot—

The Soul Condensation Tower in the forbidden area of ​​the Immortal Gate was established for him;

His Master who has resided in the upper realms for a long time, stands guard at his tomb in the lower realms

The main character who once used one sword to shake his heart spirit unexpectedly stole his corpse;

The distinguished reckless music cultivator good friend changed to cultivate the ruthless dao just to guard a trace of a remnant soul;

The Demon Master who was both good and evil was at odds with the cultivation world;

The unruly disciple used dead branches as hairpins, and from then on he only thought of one person.

It turned out that the whole cultivation world wanted to revive him.

Li Fenglan: I’ve received your kind regards, now you can get lost. Smile.jpg

- Description from Novelupdates

The youngest, silly fourteenth son of the Yan Emperor had reached the age where he should be given a separated territory now. He rejected the wealthy land, neighbouring the capital city, and instead chose the wildest land in the western region— Liangcheng. Everyone shook their heads and sighed. A fool is indeed a fool. If you go to Liangcheng, you will be killed by barbarians in less than three to five years.

One year later, the watermelon presented to the Emperor as the tribute from Liangcheng in the west was sweet and crispy. There was no one in the palace who did not love it.

Two years later, Liangcheng presented corn as a tribute to the Emperor. The yield was high, and the taste was good. No one in the country could resist liking it.

Three years later, Liangcheng defeated the barbarians and presented their prisoners in front of the imperial court. The people of Yan were excited and their morale was greatly boosted.

Four years later… Everyone said that the fourteenth prince Mingyu was a fool, while the little fatty Yu, who transmigrated with the golden finger, chuckled. Let’s see how you guys look at this fool build his own territory, then.

- 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.”