The Record of Unusual Creatures - Chapter 1685 - A Historic Solution

“Huh? There is a data panel? Let’s explode it!”

This is a story of a traveler who became a handyman in a martial arts school and started practicing from Yiqijue.

- Description from novelbuddy

After the college entrance exam, Su Mu, who comes from an ordinary family and works as a waiter in a hotel, accidentally breaks a priceless antique.The exorbitant compensation fee immediately sends Su Mu into a panic.With no other option, he reluctantly calls his father, Su Ruizhi, for help.Su Ruizhi said, “Son, don't panic. Let me tell you the truth. In fact, our family has assets worth billions, and even the luxury hotel where you work belongs to our family!”Ding! [Thirty million has been deposited into your bank account.]Looking at the bank notification on his phone, Su Mu is utterly dumbfounded.'Damn, I had no idea our family is so wealthy!'

A hundred years ago, the blue star world fell into an endless abyss, and the era of abyss lords for all began.

Become the lord of the abyss, expand the territory, and resist the invasion of the abyss. The lord is hope, and the lord is destiny!

A hundred years later, a boy who has obtained a soul-entry talent, a treasure chest, a resource crystal, and a summoning scroll, will be perfect after ten consecutive draws? Hundred consecutive draws will produce legends?

What are you waiting for?

Wu Feng, who became the will of the abyss, was interviewed: “I really just didn’t want to lose my status as a lord, so you believe me!”

When you gaze into the abyss, I am the abyss!

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Readership: 892119197.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”