MTL - Game of Gods - Chapter 693 experiment

It was rumored that a woman beat her weak, poor, helpless husband in the middle of the night.

It was rumored that a woman gave up working hard to go to school with her bamboo stick.

It was rumored that a woman …… was simply not human!

Meng Changjin pressed her throbbing temples: “And it is rumored that today’s dinner would be simmer-fried carp!”

Fish System: Hey, hey, the host is not behaving again ~

- Description from Novelupdates

An unexpected discovery in Machu Picchu has transported a young professional thief from Earth to a world filled with mystical powers and evil plots. With his beloved teacher and best friend killed during the calamity, his only goal is to become stronger, so that he can take revenge for them.This is a novel filled with politics, the struggle for power, evil beauties, and of course, Divine Immortals.

- Description from Novelupdates

This work portrays the perspective of Yuhanna, a masochist, as she falls into a state lower than livestock, ultimately becoming a mere human toilet.This is an extremely dark and hardcore explicit story.It delves into almost all hardcore genres feasible in a modern setting, excluding fantastical elements.Hardcore | Dark | Masochist | Submission |Incest| SM | R18 | SMUT

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.”