Grinding Cultivation Toward Martial Saint - Chapter 504 - 122 Strength Enhancement (Request for Monthly Tickets!!)_2

[Warning: Mature Content and a ruthless, villainous, badass mc!]Kael Draven was once the feared leader of an underground mafia empire. A shadow ruler who pulled the strings behind the scenes.But power comes at a price. Kael learned that the hard way when a bullet pierced his ear, and his trusted ally betrayed him, bringing his life to an end.Bang!As his empire crumbled and his body hit the cold floor, all he could think was, ‘What a pathetic way to go.’Instead of hell, Kael woke up in a far more dangerous world, with a body stronger than ever—youthful, shredded, with muscles for days and an ego that could crush mountains.His title? Master of the Crimson Maw.He now led a bandit group that had angered a mysterious force and been wiped out—except for one survivor: a strong, silent gladiatrix who wanted nothing to do with him.To make things even more interesting, his body bore a glowing tattoo that whispered in his mind: “Bond. Through body. Through soul.”But Kael wasn’t one to back down. He didn’t like losing.So what if his base was a dilapidated shack? So what if his army was just one extremely voluptuous warrior?Kael wasn’t here to play small. He was going to turn this ragtag bandit group into a force feared by all, with a harem of deadly beauties who would bow to no one but him!Welcome to the Crimson Maw. Where the training is brutal, the beauties are overpowered, and the only thing more dangerous than an enemy is the bandit king himself.Let the grind begin!

Yila, who had served the empire for half her life, was decisively sold. He was almost beaten to death when he wanted to go to other countries, and was rescued by the Dragon Lady Demon King.

After crossing over, Ira, who had killed monsters for half her life, was a little guilty, but…

【Those who fight against the evil dragon should be careful not to become the husband of the dragon…】

[When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss… offers a kiss. 】

Ira Alcaraz: ? ? ?

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(Slow heat farming text…probably)

Book Friends Group (playing with the crescent moon madman): 【926993534】

- Description from novelbuddy

Following her attempted assassination, Fatima found herself amidst a meticulously staged slave auction orchestrated by her mysterious rescuers in the capital city of a prospective ally empire. Now a slave of the Kartier Duchy, her life as a princess seems far behind her as she spends her days toiling the farms under the scorching sun. Just when all hopes seem to be lost, Fatima’s painful days eased upon meeting the strikingly handsome heir of the Kartier duchy along with his cold and seemingly gruff knight. Will she ever overcome the shackles of slavery and return home to reclaim her title or will spend the rest of her life enduring the cruel treatments of the duchess? Torn between a charming heir and a dubious knight as her potential escape routes, which hand will she grasp?

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.”