Cultivator of the End: I Refine My Own Death - Chapter 61 – Echoes of the First Death

Shen and Ming, two top wealthy families, have married.

As the object of marriage, Professor Ming is obsessed with scientific research, education, and psychological construction and can’t extricate himself. He really has no relationship with the big devil Shen Tinglan!

The two of them don’t even bother to play every scene, and Ming Qianye thinks about being annulled by the Great Demon King all the time!

However, relying on the exorbitant looks, talents and abilities of both parties, CP fans come here uninvited, looking forward to their interaction every day, begging for dog food to fit together, and trying hard to find evidence of their love…

Professor Ming finally couldn’t take it anymore and sent a message to showdown with the big devil——

[Senior, I actually just want to have a fake relationship with you! 】

The Great Demon King: [Call me husband, I will have a real relationship with you. 】

Professor Ming frowned: [I don’t want to fall in love! 】

The big devil called directly: “What’s the matter? I just donated the laboratory and the teaching building, and last night I said that I performed well, but the next day I turned my face and refused to recognize anyone? Have you learned how to cheat money and sex?”

Professor Ming was shocked: “I didn’t, I… am participating in the show…”

Followed by ‘Duddu…’

That phone is hung up!

The audience in the live broadcast room exploded:

【Did the words just now come from the mouth of Mr. Shen, who is so handsome? 】

【How did Great Demon King Shen behave last night? Is it the color I thought it was? 】

[Can you describe the details? We don’t lack this traffic! ! ! 】

- Description from novelbuddy

It is said that you shouldn't meet your heroes. Gehaldirah, a high elf of royal bloodline didn't have to meet the realm lord of High Heaven before he became disillusioned.

His admiration for the paragon of the high elf race turned into hatred when he got some damning knowledge about why demons kept attacking his home and looting the sacred tree of life. His hatred for the realm lord turned to self-hatred for his weakness and mediocrity.

Gehaldirah had a moment of introspection. He isn't at the bottom of the ladder in this strength-based hierarchy. He is a king of law, but that apparently isn't enough to guarantee your fate. His strength is also mediocre because it was granted to him because of his bloodline.

He determined he had to change himself. He has to become better. He concocted a plan that is one part genius and one part greed. His plan for reincarnation led him to the trial of heaven that occurs every origin cycle. He needed Origin essence so he participated in the trial.

He got more than he wanted from the trial. His plan for reincarnation would be a success after some adjustments. But now he has a different aim. He won't aim for just the realm lord. The realm lord has control of the High Heaven Realm. That isn't enough for Geraldirah anymore.

He became greedier. He has his sight set on the movers and shakers of the Void Universe. Only the power to subvert the will of World Gods will do. The plan to create LEGION, the ultimate organism was then hatched. If one person cannot achieve something, what about a multitude of them?

His journey will not be easy. He will have to overcome Celestials and their Celestial Supreme, Gods and their GodKings, Demon kings and their Demon gods. The Void Universe is full of obstacles that will like nothing more than to put an end to his path. It is not that they hate him. They will oppose him simply because the era of conquest is coming. There are no friends in the era of conquest. It is everyone for themselves.

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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.”