My Death Flags Show No Sign of Ending - Chapter 3

I am Lin Fan and I’ve become a jack of all trades just because of a powerful Encyclopedia.
In the first ever competition organised for trolls, all the other contestants lost. The crowd exclaimed, “Brother, you’re so good at trolling.”
Lin Fan replied, “But I’ve never been trolling…”

Every time he dies, Ethan Hill gains a little more power.Earth was chosen for Integration, but Ethan knows from the second his Trial begins that the Integration is a lie. These creatures giving Earth the 'honor' of access to their Interface want something from Earth - he just doesn't know what.Now he's trapped on an alien planet and lost in a time loop, fighting for strength and for his own humanity.One thing's for sure: He'll die as many times as it takes to tear it all down.

Also known as: Sky City

What exactly is love, and where does it come from? I can’t figure it out, maybe the so-called love is just a colorful butterfly, it looks beautiful, but it can never be approached, if you really want to hold her tightly in your hand, she will struggle, and then rub against each other in the struggle Lost all the colors, pale from now on.

I seem to understand a little bit why I was so cautious, because I was afraid of not touching her soul, but wiped off that beautiful color!

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A pure love story between a three-none man and a beautiful female tenant.

Sina Weibo: Search (I have medicine to sell)

WeChat public account: tanke17k

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”