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... er to kill two level zombies wandering nearby. Originally, the two levels of zombies did not send so many masters, but they established their own territory in two abandoned cities, hunting humans and livestock everywhere, and the forces are expanding rapidly. Humans must annihilate them before they form a scale.

"According to the intelligence, the two levels of zombies are in Huaiqu and Baonan, separated by more than two hundred miles. In order to ensure that nothing is lost, we will not ...

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Traveling through the Naruto world, he was reborn as Uchiha Itachi’s uncle, and awakened Dio’s substitute “World”.

Have you ever seen Uchiha practicing blocks?

Ghost back, tire shoulders, a face of Araki lines.

Tear Susano with your hands, step on the tailed beast, and fight Kaguya Hime hand-to-hand.

I heard that the thunder escape ninjutsu in Yunyin Village is unique in the ninja world? I invented Uchiha’s Yin Escape Illusory Body Art.

I heard Itachi wants to exterminate the clan? When I went up, I just slapped my nephew’s teeth.

I heard that Obito Kamui is invincible? I punched through the void.

I am the god of muscles of Uchiha.

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This book is also known as: “Saving Uchiha from the Destruction of Konoha”

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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.”