I Have A Game Clone - Chapter 394 - : Success (1)

Wang Jin found a beautiful drunk mixed-race boy on the side of the road. He looked pretty at night and couldn’t help bringing him home and sleeping with him. When he woke up the next day, he found out that the beauty was a minor.

This is the story of two people who met by chance, their lives turning from narcissism and selfishness to falling in love with each other’s trivialities.

- Description from Novelupdates

The Demon King dies and the entire Demon Realm perishes in the prologue of “The Demon King is Dead,” and I have become the Demon Prince of that novel.

… Somebody save me.

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

Three thousand avenues, is there a secret to becoming an immortal?

How can an ordinary female cultivator achieve longevity?

Please see, an ordinary woman’s path to immortality.

－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－－

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”