Five-Year Old Prophet is Pampered by Ten Brothers - Chapter 324 - Men Can Also Be Vases

# DAILY # PRIMITIVE # MORAL # RELAXEDA story of grit and triumph over adversity. When Jiang Xuan transmigrates to a primitive tribe, he is barely conscious of a vicious attack by an enemy tribe. Only he and a few others survive.Together, they have to work out how to survive in the wild: building shelter, making tools and weapons, hunting and gathering, and cultivating crops. They face constant dangers from ferocious creatures and hostile tribes.Beneath a lofty mountain with mysterious ancient vines, they decide to build a new tribe, the Vine Tribe.It is time to exact their revenge on the Black Crow Tribe that has ruthlessly destroyed their lives...

The protagonist, a renowned gamer/YouTuber aka [TorchDancer] is a master of the game “Tril Trilo Trilogy.” When offered a chance to playtest the prequel, “Part 0,” he jumps at the opportunity. But a twist of fate plunges him into the game itself, transforming him into the series’ ultimate villain, Frank Wonderstein. Trapped in a monstrous body, he must navigate a dangerous world, unraveling the secrets of the game and his own destiny. Can a hero become a villain? Or can a villain find redemption? Well, you’ll just have to read to find out.

In China’s modern martial arts society, Wu Xinghe was history’s youngest grandmaster of martial arts. He was invincible. Because of a strange incident, he was reincarnated as Qin Wushuang, a poor aristocratic boy in an entirely different world with its own set of rules. With his strong will and passion, he began his journey to pursue the highest peak of martial arts!

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.”