Garden Of Poison - Chapter 279: Storm Brothers

Yun Bixue is in dire straits—

Xiao Qingrong had no mother and no father. With his own ability, he climbed to the peak of life, then encountered a system who could shuttle him across time and space. “Do you want to become a male god?”

He turned into a 17-year old, weak chicken with two years left in prison, Xiao Qingrong coldly interrogated the system. The system, playing dead, threw a powerful pill.

#In short, this Male God always threatens his Super Male God System#

Related Novel:

- Description from Novelupdates

Aldred was a 20-year-old man who killed himself because he couldn't stand how the world treated him.

He prayed for a life that he could be grateful for.

And unexpected to him, the gods heard his prayer.

...

I welcome you to the world of fantastic imaginations where swords and magic clashed.

What to expect: A lot of beautiful girls. OP MC, weak to strong, sucking things. Milk. lots of milk. Adventure. And Comedy.

Warning: You might laugh too hard reading this story.

Note: This is an adventure story. The 1-10 chap is a prologue of some sort. But I advise you not to skip them, I am sure you will find them hilarious.

Note: Will there be milf and incest? Yes, but at the later part of the story. MC has to fight his way to earn these rewards. So follow his journey first.

NO NTR

Note: The cover is not mine. If you want me to take it down, please ask.

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.”