MTL - Return of the Net Gaming Monarch - Chapter 9 I am ten.

Zhou Yu, a reclusive otaku who did not like to go out of his house, was one day forced out of his house by a series of unexpected events.

Check out my latest novel: Beyond the Bloodline.◇　◇　◇For billions of years, the gods have stood atop most universes, some being benevolent, while others being malevolent.Suddenly, there was a prophecy.One that foretold the birth of a certain being.The child of a god, born to put an end to the gods.Would the gods really let such a being exist in peace?Obviously Not.Would that being really let the gods mess up his life without retaliation?Definitely Not.This is a telling of that being’s story, as he rises up to fight against the gods who wish to end him, and as he discovers the other powerful entities and horrors that lurk in the vast cosmos.◇　◇　◇WARNING: THE EARLIER CHAPTERS OF THIS STORY ARE CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTENCheck out my other stories from my profile; ' Reincarnated Hero System' & 'Beyond the Bloodline'.

In one timeline, Shen Yu joked to his frends that he would send his new disciple to Soaring Heaven's Isle, an all-female sect.In another, this wasn't a joke.All Jin Rou knows is that this supposed man's dream isn't all its cracked up to be, espcially after two errant Soaring Heaven's Isle diciples accidentally blow him, and the floating island he was living on, up.Wherever he goes... this poor guy can't seem to catch a break. Or lose the chicken.The maybe harem, maybe romance, defintiely comedy timeline of Beware of Chicken, starring Rou, his cock, and his two idiots, Bailu and Seiyu.

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.”