Coiling Dragon (Pan Long) - Vol 1 Chapter 15: The Battle in the Sky (part 2)

Zhang Yifan is actually a good person, that is, the virtue of being unwilling to sit when you can lie down, not willing to stand when you can sit, and not willing to walk when you can stand …

In order to achieve this goal, he can only continue to work hard …
Just don’t know why, he somehow has great achievements in the science and technology world …..

Zhang Yifan: “I don’t know, I’m also very strange …”

- Description from Uukanshu

I want Hollywood to be the Hollywood I want – Lancelot Strelow
His life was full of ups and downs, rebellious, and brilliant. No one can deny his excellence. With hundreds of millions of box office in his left hand and countless trophies in his right, even the most critical film critics have to lower their heads, let alone It is said that countless movie fans all over the world worship him, leaving an indelible mark in this era.
But, he is a bastard.
He is a complete jerk, he relies on Hollywood to become famous, but he is a rebel in Hollywood, his disgusting personality makes him the public enemy of the entire Hollywood, he unscrupulously impacts everyone’s bottom line, and he stimulates everyone unrestrainedly With his nerves, he lightly challenged everyone’s authority, and his unrestrained talent was like a nightmare from which he would never wake up. However, no one could refuse him.
You can only avoid falling in love with him if you completely loathe him – The New York Times

- Description from novelbuddy

Endless sky and infinite space, the cosmos isn’t some paradise waiting to be found, it is full of darkness and danger, death and terror of the great unknown. However, for that glittering swath of blue, we have no fear! For the longevity of men, we have no regrets! Nothing shall stand in our way because it is finally our time, our age! The age of cosmos exploration!

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.”