A rare magical miracle in the world - Chapter 794 - 472: Trust Your Feelings, Make Your Own Way (Seeking Monthly Pass)

At the press conference, reporters bombarded Chen Xing with questions. “Can you explain how someone as young as you clinched the championship? We heard accusations from other contestants that you've been cheating? Is that true?”Chen Xing shoved the microphone that was pushed up to his nose away, his face filled with annoyance, “I want to state again very seriously that I haven't cheated!”As his words ended, Chen Xing waved his hand and summoned a behemoth that blotted out the sky, then jumped onto its back. “Damn it, I can't stand this anymore. Just because I raised them well, they say I cheated? My crocodile accidentally ate a demon, and that's cheating?”

Warriors train their bodies. Scholars fill their minds. Every cultivator must have both and the talent to harness qi. But when the youngest princess of the murim lord was born, her golden core had to be sealed immediately because her talent for harvesting qi was too strong. Follow her as she regains her talent as the weakest murim princess.

After her mother’s passing, Tabitha Collins’s father marries a new wife and sends Tabitha Collins to live with a family she barely knows. There, she meets Alexander Foster, the family’s high-flying Eldest Young Master, who wants nothing to do with her. Apart from him, however, the other members of the family loves her and dotes on her. Soon, things began to change. Alexander Foster becomes intrigued by the mysterious and seemingly untamable Tabitha Collins. Who is she exactly? Initially, the girl seems to lack confidence and needs protecting, but as he finds out more about her, he realizes, he's the one with the catching up to do!

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.”