I Only Tame Dragons - Chapter 148 Clash of Titans

Two years ago, the mere fifteen-year-old scion of the Lin family, in front of the colossal behemoth that is the Murong clan, made a vow!Two years later, no one knows what he has gone through, but from the moment of his return, he radiates a brilliance that seems to compete with heaven and earth!(Note: The protagonist of this book is very aloof, cold, and passionate. Those who like to read about a military king's ambiguous romances and flirts, please bypass this one.)

She was the daughter of a plutocrat, an elite with multiple identities, known and respected by everyone; she was a young girl from a rich family, who was peacocky and shameless, loathed by all.

After being reborn as her, she defeated the bad man and the angelic bitch, took revenge on the bad guy who killed her, married the most noble man, got into the sweetest relationship, and stunned the world!

Reporter, Mr. Leach, what is your favorite thing in the world?

Benson, Jill.

Reporter, Mr. Leach, what do you like to do most every day?

Benson smiled, Sleeping with Jill in my arms at night.

Juliana: ...

Will this treacherous darkness swallow you up, or will you survive as a unique existence?Lin En accidentally transmigrated into this monstrous world. As a rare human doctor, every one of his patients was moved by his “gentle” treatment and “sincere” service!“Anesthetics? Maybe next time.”“My knife is quick, it’ll be over soon~”Welcome to Bloodsaw Pharmacy, where we will serve you wholeheartedly.

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.”