Memoirs of the Returnee - Chapter 340: Price (6)

There is a very strange restaurant in the City of Sin.

Elves and dwarves must share a table, orcs are strangely well behaved, dragons are only welcomed on the small square in front of the restaurant, and the demons must bring their own stool.

This strange restaurant with their strange rules continuous to attract a long line of customers.

“This place serves the best food! The chef of this restaurant is a genius!” Some of the guests in the restaurant left glowing reviews. But these guests have a word of warning for other guests, “No matter what you do, never, never attempt to kidnap the boss or try to ‘eat and run’. You will die.”

A cute little girl stood near the door, and demanded in her tiny voice, “You have eaten the food, now pay up, or I will beat you to death.” The five-meter tall dragon suddenly felt a chill running up its spine.

A frail and often ill son of a wealthy merchant unexpectedly embarked on the path of cultivating immortality while seeking a way to prolong his life!During the Tang Dynasty’s Golden Age, the world was at peace, the climate was favorable, and the people lived in tranquility.One thousand years later, demonic beings devoured the sky, demonic ghosts rampaged, and sorrow-filled cries resonated everywhere.The Journey to the West reappeared, the Great Sage fought against the heavens, the Heavenly Stem descended to the mortal world, reincarnating anew.Mysterious transmigrations and reincarnations, reality and illusions intermingling, truly extraordinary!Is it just a dream predicted in the prophecy? Or a reality that has yet to occur?Can he eradicate the predestined demonic barrier, eliminate the catastrophes of the Three Realms that have yet to occur, and save the people from utter destruction?

After finding an injured imperial big shot in a cornfield, Qiao Jing took him home and performed full-body surgery on him.When he woke up, he searched all over the world for the daring woman who had done something audacious to him. He searched the entire Imperial Capital, only to find out that the person was actually his wife from the countryside. Not knowing the truth, General Zhan was disgusted. “After 100 days, we're getting a divorce!”The medical expert said, “Master, there are still 90 days left until the divorce. I know a prince from the empire who has always wanted to meet you.”The agricultural expert said, “There are still 60 days left. The position of my granddaughter-in-law has been vacant.”The famous actor said, “Just one day left. The engagement ring is ready.”General Zhan couldn't bear it anymore and jumped out, pulling Qiao Jing in his arms. “You performed full-body surgery on me, and you still want a divorce?”Qiao Jing replied, “We agreed on getting a divorce in 100 days. Aren't you a responsible man who'll keep his word?”General Zhan said, “I am, but... I just want to be responsible for you...”Nine months later, the onlookers thought they had divorced. But to everyone's surprise, General Zhan appeared with Qiao Jing, who was pregnant with triplets, leaving everyone stunned!

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.”