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... ed, their blows shaking the sky itself.

Lucifer and Satanael moved at speeds beyond mortal comprehension, their strikes sending shockwaves that shattered reality around them. The very fabric of existence twisted with each collision of their power, the air splitting apart with every clash.

Lucifer was calm, his movements effortless, his white wings cutting through the burning winds. His every attack was precise, almost playful. He wasn’t fighting seriously—he was toying with Satan ...

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99 is one, and nine refinements are returned to Xian.

A young town boy, stepping on Xiuxian Road, is not a family, no gold fingers, with his own determination and wisdom, the nine major cultivation system, the nine realms step by step to the peak, and finally ninety-nine one, the achievement of true immortal.

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A lifetime ago, Chu Xun was shackled and thrown in jail on false charges. For three whole years, he suffered extraodinary torment from his cellmates every day. Even though he had escaped death many times, he still died from his cellmates’ fists the day before he was to be released.

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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.”