City of Sin - Book 9, Chapter 102

Xia Ruofei, a retired special warfare elite, unexpectedly discovered that the ancestral scrolls contained a small space that was independent.

There are Lingtan waters that promote plant growth in the space. There are mysterious spiritual flowers that cure all diseases. They also bring ten times the time flow rate. What is planted is a fine product, everything grows fast, and what can be cultivated is spiritual…

From then on, planting flowers, planting trees, raising animals, and licking beautiful women, Xia Ruofei opened a wonderful life.

- Description from ptwxz (translated)

The Human Emperor and his opponents were embroiled in a 33 day long final battle involved the strongest experts. After destroying the Abyssal World and sealing the Abyssal demon king’s godly weapon‘ a mysterious purple card disappeared into the space-time vortex‘ and tunneled through infinite space-time.

In the vast wilderness‘ where martial arts was still slowly growing in its infancy‘ several peerless masters tried to find their path in the world of martial arts.

A young adult named Yi Yun from modern Earth had unwittingly stumbled into such a world and began that journey with a purple card of unknown origin.

It’s a magnificent yet unknown true martial art world. This is the story of a normal young adult turning into a legendary peerless expert.

- Description from novelupdates

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.”