The Dungeon Monsters Keep Offering Sacrifices - Chapter 13

Zhou Donghuang, a man from the Earth, is able to destroy any planet in the universe without lifting a finger. His supreme will can sweep across the vast cosmos in the blink of an eye. And his immortal spirit can depart from his body and wander around the universe!

In Kunlun Mountains lies a circular slate, which brought him back to one thousand years ago…

- Description from Novelupdates

In the first year of the fire calendar, a large-scale spiritual recovery has occurred around the world.

One year after the fire calendar, the Jingwei Division was established and began to contain supernatural beings on a large scale.

After three years of the fire calendar, Xun Xi traveled to this world full of despair. However, in front of him, there is only a diary written by himself before his death, who claims to be the future.

The diary revealed his future death.

In other words, every line and every sentence in the diary is his masterpiece.

And it will be updated!

“Others are the favored sons of the heavens who have traveled through the world. Wherever they go, they will be followed by chance. Why is it only me, where I will die wherever I go, I am just a rebel, a version orphan.”

“unfair!”

…………

Carrying a future diary in his arms, Xun Xi is struggling to survive in this desperate world. He firmly believes: My future style, I am the master!

- Description from novelbuddy

Will this treacherous darkness swallow you up, or will you survive as a unique existence?Lin En accidentally transmigrated into this monstrous world. As a rare human doctor, every one of his patients was moved by his “gentle” treatment and “sincere” service!“Anesthetics? Maybe next time.”“My knife is quick, it’ll be over soon~”Welcome to Bloodsaw Pharmacy, where we will serve you wholeheartedly.

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.”