LEGEND OF THE GOLDEN TIGRESS - Chapter 13: You are the Emperor

At the moment when he was about to be buried alive by the villagers, he blew himself up… no, he saved himself successfully.

He just wants to live and die in this era, but… that woman is too crazy.

…

Book friend group: 624065836, group name: Datang broom star. If it is a full subscription, you can contact the group owner after entering to verify that you have entered the full subscription group.

- Description from novelbuddy

Jian Ci is the light. An S-class Esper, his powers ripple with the warmth of a thousand suns, his smile a blinding beacon that draws humanity, and hope, to him like moths to a flame. He is the Sun, a magnetic force of nature, utterly unaware of the abyss that gazes back.Yu Xi is the dark. A shadow with skin, a man who walks through life with a silent, consuming emptiness, broken only by a singular, scorching singularity... Jian Ci.He is the Abyss, a dark constellation orbiting a single star, and his existence is now defined by the answer to one terrifying question.How far are you willing to go for him?Yu Xi’s response, spoken as clearly as a death sentence.“To hell and back.”This is the story of an impossible equation: Light + Darkness = ?It is a love that warps physics and morality, a descent into an obsession so profound it threatens to rip the very fabric of their world.Yu Xi knows their combination is impossible, a contradiction that should result in utter annihilation. Yet, with a quiet, terrifying devotion, he is prepared to burn the world, his own soul included, if it means securing his star.

In the twenty-ninth year of the First Emperor, Bo Langsha was attacked.

When Ying Zheng merged the memories of the 21st century history doctor, looked at the mighty mountains and rivers in front of him, and said to himself, “In this life, my Daqin can’t die!”

- 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.”