The King of the Battlefield - Chapter 236 - Dantalian (1)

Ten years ago, Joseph Cassian was thrown into a maximum-security prison for crimes he didn’t commit framed by the very family whose blood runs through his veins.Now, at twenty-eight, he walks free into a world where the city’s mafia empires have mysteriously crumbled. Their leaders, slaughtered. Their empires, burned.All while Joseph sat in silence behind bars... no one can prove he did anything and yet it all happened as if he planned it.Was he just a wrongfully imprisoned scapegoat, a man who survived injustice?Or is he a mastermind a Don who orchestrated revenge so flawlessly that not even he had to lift a finger?Now that he’s free, Joseph stands at a crossroads.He can leave the blood behind, walk away from the ashes of an empire that once owned the city.Or he can claim what’s left of his legacy and become the very Don the world has feared all along.

Extras die every day in various ways in the game [Yo-Ma Great War 3].

The young Xiao Yi bore a mysterious seal within him, yet due to his father and siblings’ injustice, he was sent to the remote Nanhuang and became a son-in-law to the Fang Family. On his wedding day, the seal inside Xiao Yi was unlocked, and from then on, he controlled the Eternal Celestial Tomb! Many of the strongest beings from all the heavens and worlds were buried within the Celestial Tomb, and Xiao Yi, who now commanded the tomb, began his life’s journey of gaining strength through grave-robbing! “You think you’re a martial arts genius? Let me dig up a Martial God’s grave and we’ll see!”“You consider yourself an alchemy expert? I’ll dig up a Medicine Saint’s grave and then we’ll talk!”“You’re the son of a divine emperor? I’ve got plenty of divine emperor graves here!”“You’re the number one scoundrel in the world? ... You win, I’m out!”

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.”