The Third Prince Of Darkness - Chapter 171: Another pregnant woman

Zhuang Shuqing, who is dedicated to her career, throws two hundred yuan bills: “We are all adults, mutual consent is very normal.”After marriage -“Boss, Mrs. Lu has taken out your will to read again.”“Hmm, I have good writing skills, let the children learn more.”“Boss, Mrs. Lu said she has too many enemies and has written a will... to ask you to take a look...”“Who dares to touch my woman?”The little princess ran over, panting, “Daddy, brother took mommy and ran away!”Guard against everything, but it's hard to guard against family thieves. A certain man's handsome face turned completely black, “Someone, send the young master to a deserted island for me!”

Riding out the apocalypse on a tropical island isn't exactly a vacation. When mana arrives on Earth, Coop finds himself isolated in paradise with only one real option to survive. He needs to claim a civilization shard and level up. Coop maximizes his chances by carefully selecting a class and committing to progression. He’ll need to grind thousands of monsters to compete on the system's leaderboards while upgrading his settlement to represent the factionless.

Ye Xiao was a superior cultivator in his previous life. The three factions of the realm kill millions of people every time they attempt to seize cultivation resources. Wealthy towns turn to wastelands in just a single night. They cover up their crime with an assertion that the towns were suffering from pestilence and disasters.

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.”