A Precious Pearl in the Imperial City - Chapter 32

The end of the world is full of crises, but Su Chen says not to worry because he has the Red Alert System. That’s how confident he is. You say you have a lot of weapons? Sorry, I have more weapons than I can use here. Let me introduce you to the weather control device. You say the mutant beasts are very powerful? No problem, I have a way to deal with them…

Ye Chen transmigrated into the world of cultivation and became the Saint Master of a Sacred Land. However, he discovered that the Heavenly Origin Sacred Land’s source of income took a big hit, and their finances were in the red. The Sacred Land is basically on the brink of bankruptcy.And so, Ye Chen invented the mobile phone for the cultivation world, causing a sensation throughout the realm. And this was only the beginning!Foundation Establishment cultivators delivering packages on their swords.Qi Refinement cultivators attending online classes from the comfort of their homes.The three major Sacred Lands all opening online shops!And a legendary Saintess becoming the queen of live streaming!All these changes started on the day the cultivation world’s version of a mobile phone was released!

He was the powerful and influential heir of B City, the merciless head of the commercial world, but the divorce papers made him lose his cool.

“Sign the divorce papers, daddy,” said the 5-year-old boy.

This man had the divorce papers thrown in his face by his wife six years ago, and was now being pushed by his own son to sign the papers.

“That would make you a single-parent child,” said Gu Juexi coldly.

“Mommy said unicorns don’t exist but men like you do,” the boy leered at his father and said.

Gu Juexi’s face fell. ‘That damned woman.’

“You haven’t signed the papers,” the boy reminded as the man left. As usual, the door shut in his face.

Good lord… Dad and mom are not getting a divorce and are giving him a baby brother? How worrying!

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.”