World Evolution! Awakening Limit Grade Talent! - Chapter 111: World Evolution Begins

Zhulan, in a transmigration novel about a supporting female's counterattack through farming, managed a triple leap: getting married, bearing children, and becoming a mother-in-law. The point to focus on: She became the wicked mother-in-law from the counterattack stories.From 26 to 36, not to mention, with six kids in tow, two daughters-in-law, a few grandkids, and a still-living husband—emphasis on the fact that he's not her original spouse, but the one who trapped her into transmigration.Only after becoming the original body did Zhulan realize she was miserably tricked by her two daughters-in-law. The elder daughter-in-law had a loud voice, complete with a 'brain-enhancing' feature—it turned every little issue into a big deal once it reached her mouth.The younger daughter-in-law was timid and weak, bursting into tears at the drop of a hat, perfectly crafting the image of Zhulan as a wicked mother-in-law.Zhulan, “.......This life is really unbearable.”Someone, “You still have me.”Zhulan, “Ha, you're the one who screwed me over the most!”Someone, “......”

Chu Nan was just an ordinary student, but because of an accident, he obtained the data collection, analysis and processing ability equivalent to the most advanced optical brain.

Su Wen transmigrated and became the Prime Minister’s son, possessing both power and money.

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.”