The Next Big Thing - Chapter 26: Derby county vs hull city

A Mysterious continent, with many powerful sect and countless strong one. Juvenile Zhou Heng with a mysterious black broken sword, from the original stone town out into this world of war. Ascended the throne of the world with only a sword in hand.

- Description from Novelupdates

The night that was supposed to be the peak of my life became the night I lost everything.My step-sister Rose stole my achievements.My fiancé chose her over me.My father handed over the company I built with my own hands… to her.And when I finally walked away, broken and exhausted, Karl followed me home—drunk, furious, and ready to destroy what little I had left.One blow to the head was all it took to end Jenna Harvour.At least, that’s what the world was meant to believe.I didn’t die.I woke up drugged, half-conscious, and listening to people decide how to “dispose” of me. I heard Rose’s voice ordering my death to be written off as suicide.I heard doctors bargaining over my body.And when I was finally strong enough to open my eyes, I was greeted by a stranger’s face and a new name forced onto me: Jenna Lorance.They buried my old identity.They held a funeral with my name on it.And I was expected to disappear quietly into this new life they created.But the world doesn’t get rid of me that easily.My unexpected lifeline comes in the form of Damian Black—the heir to the largest mafia syndicate and the last person I ever thought would notice me. He shouldn’t care about a woman like me… yet he’s the only one who looks at me as if he can sense the truth beneath my new skin.Revenge is easy.Escaping him is not.Because once a man like Damian decides you’re his, he doesn’t let go—not even if the whole world believes you’re already dead._________Re-upload because I needed to fix first 6 chapters[Warning: Mature Context, R18+]

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.”

Gods and demons are everywhere in the Grand Desolate World.