Dreams and fists shatter the sky - Chapter 308 - All-Out War

This is a story about a badass,

Do not underestimate the act of tilling the soil. The practice of farming holds the power to command the clouds and dictate the rainfall with a mere flick of the wrist. Similarly, never undervalue the humble farmer, who might draw the gaze of stunning women, and vie for the affections of fluttering butterflies.A stunning journalist makes for a worthy companion, and even an aloof, imperious law enforcement officer could be brought to plead for mercy. A tutor? Allow me to provide additional instruction! I may appear as a regular individual, but through a stroke of fortune, I have embarked on a captivating journey, dancing amidst the wind and the clouds!

Upon waking, Wang Shan finds himself in Room 888, the most luxurious accommodation in Cloud City, typically reserved for the wealthiest. Despite his complaints about the “”subpar”” room, five stunning women are waiting to inform him of his first-place assurance in an upcoming test due to his powerful father’s influence.A stranger to this world from the 21st century, Wang Shan learns that martial prowess is paramount, categorized into nine realms. Today, he must take the One-star Cultivator test, despite his supposed lack of innate talent. His father’s status as the ruler and a formidable Two-star Expert guarantees his victory, but the arrival of the gifted Zhang Bao poses a deadly challenge.As Wang Shan bathes, he hears a voice in his mind: “”System binding, binding successful.”” A powerful trading system allows him to trade anything he touches, enabling him to instantly advance his cultivation. With newfound power, Wang Shan contemplates his next move. Will he overcome the threats and rise to greatness with the help of his mysterious system?

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.”