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... ve brought to the people present if he hadn't been bent on seeking abuse.

   When Xuanqing lost his fighting power and fell to his knees, he had already become a blood man, but he didn't look embarrassed unexpectedly, but with the blood color, it added a bit of **** to him.

   Yu Xiaoxiao approached step by step, and finally stopped in front of him.

  Xuanqing raised his eyes slightly, his vision was blurred by blood. Looking at this figure similar to the one in his memory, ...

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After transmigrating, medical expert Gu Qingxue became a widow with three small babies waiting to be fed.

Armed with a Miracle Doctor System, she used the needles in her hands to snatch people from the god of hell, raised the craziest children possible, and abused the scum of all scums!

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The man had looks, money, and status. He pulled her back to his place to become his regent consort.

Gu Qingxue told him frankly that she was already married and had children, so it was a no! But then…

Who can tell her why all her children looked like him?!

Her second baby, Xiao Daimao, faced his father and said to everyone, “My mommy is very knowledgeable, so why would we need a father?!” Her third baby, Xiao Mian’ao, would boast whenever he saw people, “My mommy has a beautiful, sweet voice. It’s enough that I have my mommy!”

Only her eldest child was mature, remaining calm and unaffected. Then, her fourth child shouted, “Brother! Dad is climbing the walls again!”

Her eldest child, who had been unruffled a moment ago, picked up a big stick and rushed out immediately.

He would guard his mother till the end!

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I found myself in a parallel universe, awakening as a male priest. Everything seemed perfect; after all, as a healer, specializing in aiding women should pose no issue, right? However, I couldn’t help but wonder about some peculiar spells in my repertoire.

Firstly, what in the world is the “Instantaneous Outbreak of Acute Gastroenteritis” spell? And don’t even get me started on the “Osteoporosis” spell. What purpose could these serve in my healing endeavors? The confusion only deepened with spells like “Blood Burn,” “Gradual Freeze,” and “Mental Chaos.” Can I still peacefully focus on healing women with such ominous abilities?

Comparing my spells to those of other professions, I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast. Mages wield “Doomstorm” and “Ice Age,” swordsmen boast “Sword Rain: Homecoming” and “Wind-Cutter Slash,” while archers showcase “Arrow Rain: Shooting Stars” and “Storm Arrow.” Yet, my ultimate spells are disturbingly named “Cancer Cell Proliferation,” “T-Virus Infection,” and “Rabies Outbreak.”

In the midst of it all, a certain character, some crying girl, laments, “Noooo, I just took a bath, who would have thought that I would become infected!”

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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.”