The Retired Supporting Character Wants to Live Quietly - Chapter 92 - The Tower of Illusions (2)

In the wizard world, the mysterious magic cube gave Lin Suo the ability to fuse all things.However, sometimes the recipe was a bit strange. The Evil God would shake his head when he looked at it.Horse corpse x 2 + stone + wood + clay + tent cloth = Double Horse Chariot.Octopus corpse + flower of enlightenment + black goat corpse = octopus flower with black hair?Skeleton + Bloodthirsty Vine + Vampire Eyeball = Thorny Creature Eyeball???Lin Suo: As long as there are corpses in the recipe, it will definitely make the Evil God frown.

After his divorce, Lu Qin acquired a street food stall and quickly rose to fame, becoming a culinary sensation known for his unmatched cooking talent. With his young daughter by his side, he roamed the city streets, setting up his stall and making a living. His irresistible dishes attracted crowds from all over, earning him widespread recognition.Passerby: “Most places sell fried noodles, but Lu’s are worth every penny.”Food Enthusiast: “We’ve organized a group of over a thousand people just to track down where Lu sets up his stall each day.”Chef: “I’ve tried countless times to recreate his dishes, but I just can’t match Master Lu’s perfection.”One day, an old man called the police, claiming the street food stall downstairs was suspiciously good, hinting there might be something addictive in the food. The police launched an investigation, only to find…Meanwhile, Shen Muyan’s upscale hotel restaurant was flooded with complaints, forcing her to reluctantly seek help from her ex-husband.Girlfriend: “Your ex-husband is impossible to reach! When can I book him for an exclusive interview on my gourmet show?”Shen Muyan: “He still hasn’t agreed to remarry…”A celebrity chef from South Korea traveled to China to film a culinary show but ended up spending the entire season documenting Lu Qin’s street food stall instead.

"When will people understand.... I'm only half insane?"

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.”