I've Turned Into A Fox Girl? - Chapter 227 Returning To The Freya Forest

The iron widow, the spider widow, male hunter, the witch of Neuwanstein castle, the embarrassment of noble ladies…….

This is a strange and inexplicable world…Mountains, water, stones, flowers, grass, trees, wood, the Sun, moonlight, stars… All creation under the Heavens and Earths are sources of energy. In this world, there are all the classics from his previous world, but there is a new addition: The Law of Dao. Fang Zhengzhi was conflicted. I can obtain power from reading books? Should I read Tao Te Ching first? Or should I read The Art of Becoming Invisible? What about the Analects of Confucius or… The Golden Lotus? With The Law Of Dao as his foundation, can Fang Zhengzhi master the Dao of All Creation and open the gate of God?

Roy’s life was nothing special. The only thing commendable was the last few moments when he saved a mother and her child from a drunk driver.
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It’s really an egg! Damn it, what kind of monster have I become? Did I fall into Hell instead of making it to Heaven??
Join Roy as he ventures through various worlds with the Custom Made Demon King System—a system that allows Roy to draw anything he can imagine and create it through exchanging souls!

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.”