Endless Journey: Infinite Realms - Chapter 707 Desire over Anger

Zhang Qiu is an archaeology undergraduate. One month ago, he went to Qinling Mountains with a group of archaeologist doctorate students led by Prof. Fang, to study the newly discovered ancient tomb. While the people were excited to open the tomb, Zhang Qiu was pushed back, and accidentally fell into an opening. Before he fainted, he saw a pair of red eyes staring at him. When woke up, he discovered that he was deflowered! QAQ he remembered the deeds and often dreamed of it.

Arthur is an Atelier who works under pressure. When the curse of the Succubus activates his Netori System, Arthur is unable to resist his desire to win a woman's loyalty. There is no other reason for him to test a woman's loyalty that is easily shaken when his Netori System is activated.

A failed investor from 2017 got drunk and woke up in the 1980s. China is just opening up, and the economy is blooming. There is also the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the bursting of the Dot-com bubble and other financial crisis. He used his knowledge of the future and slowly build up his empire.

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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.”