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... hold!”

“Now, who can say that the great assassins of IKL are weak?”

“Dune Sentinels’ Hashashin. Veiled Nightmare’s Phantom. And finally, Acid Gaming’s Reaper.”

“Ga-wol has defeated the world’s top assassins. Now, it’s time for the tables to turn.”

“Other teams will have to prepare for Ga-wol’s swordsmanship.”

The quarterfinals of the World Championship, expected to be chaotic, end ...

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Transmigrating into a novel one morning, Wen Jing arrived at the side of the one he worshiped and admired the most, becoming a loyal hound that was willing to go through fire and water for his senior brother.

Even the most arrogant cultivator said: “There is no one in this world who can enter my eyes, but only Jun YanZhi is truly noble.”

Wen Jing grew up alongside his senior brother, idolizing his senior brother beyond all means.

Unfortunately, he was ignorant, and as for this novel, he had only read half of it.

Midway through the storyline, he finally realized that things didn’t seem to be the way he thought they were.

Wen Jing: “Last night, Senior brother infiltrated Master’s abode. Master, please take heed.”

His master: “Nonsense! Your master was inside the abode all night last night, and did not see anyone else.”

Wen Jing: “Last night, Senior brother left on his own without permission to meet someone. Martial Uncle, please thoroughly investigate.”

His martial uncle: “Nonsense! Last night your senior brother and I were drinking and chatting merrily, all the way until morning.”

Wen Jing: “Last night, Senior brother was improper towards me……”

His senior sister: “Nonsense! How can your senior brother possibly do that kind of thing? Don’t tell me you’ve long held those kind of intentions towards him, and unable to obtain what you wanted, you’re now framing him?”

Many years later.

Wen Jing: “There’s this evil brute, specializing in using his top-notch, exquisite looks and elegant disposition to fool people, and everyone is in the midst of danger while not even aware of it themselves.”

Jun YanZhi: “If it wasn’t for you, that evil brute would most likely still be struggling in pain and suffering.”

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In the wake of the apocalypse, betrayal doesn't just stab you in the back—it bites. Zorvax learned this the hard way. Abandoned by those he trusted, he didn't just become another number in the legion of the undead. No, his fate was far more peculiar.“I thought death was the end... I was wrong,” Zorvax mutters, his voice a gravelly echo of his former self. He's a zombie, but with a twist—he's got his human mind intact. Trapped in a decaying body with an insatiable hunger, Zorvax finds himself in a gruesome predicament that's just the beginning of his ordeal.Enter the 'Zombolution System,' a mysterious power he awakens that's as cryptic as it is potent. “They wanted a monster? I'll show them the true meaning of terror,”Zorvax boasts, with a smirk only a sentient zombie could muster. This dark gift is his ticket to ascend beyond a mere walking corpse, promising to unlock abilities that could crown him the emperor of the undead.As Zorvax hones his newfound skills, the line between man and monster blurs. Will his human intellect triumph, or will the beast within claim the throne? “This world has no place for the weak,” he arrogantly declares, ready to challenge fate itself.

MTL - Doomsday~ After finishing this testimonial, write the last words.
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The aliens came with hostility.
Facing the invasion of aliens, human beings are weak like ants.
So this is the end, the real end.
But there is resistance when there is an invasion.
For some, this is not the end, it is war.
So this is war.
Real war!

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Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

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