Previous chapter: Chapter 167
Next chapter: Chapter 169
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... man standing still. Fu Wenduo smiled at him, his eyes calm and his lips slightly curved.


The two people looked at each other from a distance and no one spoke.


Suddenly, “Mo Tang.”


The low voice made Tang Mo’s heart trembled. He raised his eyes and stared at the tall man. The next second, he realized something and his eyes slightly widened. Something exploded inside his heart. Countless scenes flashed in front of their eyes. Their first meeting in the undergro ...

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Rumor has it that the empire’s first general, Shen Chengfeng, has a quirk that does not allow anyone to touch his body!

But on a certain day, not only did he touch people, but also slept with a certain person!

For countless generations, it is rumored that the empire’s well-known Xiao family only had sons who became generals. But the fact is, they actually have a daughter named Xiao Jing!

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Xiao Jing, however, was not paying attention and touched him all over!

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Xiao Jing didn’t have a choice but to disguise herself as a man to become a soldier. Unexpected events led her to have physical encounters with the empire’s most distinguished general, Shen Chengfeng. However, unknown to the public, this military master has a mysterious secret – anything that he touches would all turn to ash! Surprisingly, Xiao Jing was an exception!

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- Description from Novelupdates

THE DEATH KNELLChapter 63: THE DARK MULTIVERSE CONSPIRACY
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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.”