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... this time, many patrons in the restaurant, including the waitstaff, were laughing so hard they were nearly out of breath, and tears were almost bursting out of their eyes.

The idea of a monster was already absurd beyond measure, but the method this guy was using to exorcise and vanquish the demon involved telling people to go buy a book—just an ordinary book available in any major Wenxuan bookstore.

This had to be a joke!

“Go buy it quickly. I’m not cheating you out of y ...

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An accident gave Su Hao the ability to reincarnate infinitely.

But who can tell him why he can’t live past five years of age every time he is reincarnated?

The universe is dangerous and unfriendly to children.

Su Hao decided on his first small goal — to become an adult.

“How could I not even become an adult!”

Amidst Su Hao’s millions of reincarnations, one time after another. After obtaining enough knowledge, he discovered the way to become a god.

This is a mortal’s path to divinity. Maybe… you can too!

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“Is this a game, or did aliens make me time-travel?”

“It’s terrifying, people who die in the game actually die in the real world!”

“Damn, the whole city is mine, and there are still things that can be brought from the game to the real world, it’s just…”

Song Jian aimlessly wandered through the empty city, accompanied only by mutated zombies and monsters. His only goal now was to survive in such a zombie-infested Doomsday City.

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THE DEATH KNELLChapter 67: War of God’s and Shadows
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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.”

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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.

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