100 Billion Doted On ( Machine Translation ) - Chapter 1417 - Chapter 1417 happiness blooms at the corner and bears fruit

Qiao Yanzhou is a video gaming streamer.

Gu Zixing is a professional gamer.

Qiao Yanzhou is a big fan of Gu Zixing.

Gu Zixing is Qiao Yanzhou’s idol.

Qiao Yanzhou is a quiet fan.

Gu Zixing is a cool and charming man.

Qiao Yanzhou is a couch potato.

Gu Zixing is a world champion.

A ranked game brought the two together, and the chemistry between them takes an unexpected turn…..

Not long after:

Gu Zixing: Xiao-Qiao, am I still your idol?

Qiao Yanzhou: Yeah.

Gu Zixing: Can I kiss you then?

Qiao Yanzhou: Sorry, who did you say you were?

- Description from Novelupdates

During the Second World War, Kyle looked at Captain America standing straight and proud before him. Suddenly, a series of skill cards appeared.

「Pistol Master」

「Martial Arts Master」

「Shield Defense Master」

「Super Soldier Serum」

Which skill card do you wish to extract?

“Wait… what? This golden finger… you must be pulling my leg! Not only skill cards but I can also extract super-powered skills like the Super Soldier Serum? Mother of God… what is this?!”

- Description from Novelupdates

While browsing an online gallery, I was summoned to a tower.I obtained a gallery that allows me to communicate with those who have completed the tower.

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.”