MTL - Go Legend - Chapter 492 Change the judging standard of super first-class

Ling Jing Shu lived with humiliation and heavy burdens all her life, and only at the moment before death, she suddenly woke up and repented. If god gives her a chance to live for a second time, she will say three words to the man who let her down: You Get Lost!!

- Description from Novelupdates

Question, there is a beauty under the starry sky, her black hair looks like eternal night, her bright eyes shine like stars, her powerful magic power makes the world tremble, and her peerless beauty makes all living beings surrender, who is this beauty?

“That’s right, it’s me, the Witch King, Dorothy”

ps: The real name is “Otaku Witch”, a slow-fire setting text, too watery to enter! Don’t like water! Don’t like water!

- Description from novelbuddy

When I entered for the Film Academy, the examiner arranged a crying scene for me. I pinched my thighs blue but still no tears came out, but now, oh.

Chen You held a cigarette with his mouth, give me ten seconds, I can cry like a dog, a dead dog.

444: Film Emperor, it’s time to go to the next set.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”