Dungeon Defense - Volume 1 - Chapter 3 – Faceless Disease (Part 1)

He once stained the rivers and mountains with blood, his brilliance unparalleled. Unexpectedly, he encountered a great calamity, a dragon trapped in shallow waters, everyone thought he was nothing more than a useless son-in-law. But how could Gold Scales belong to a mere pond? The returning king, under the name of Frenzied Son-in-Law, with the War God’s stature, swept across the Eight Desolations of the Four Realms, the world trembled beneath his feet!

The oldest myth between heaven and earth reappears in the world, countless spaces begin to slowly interweave, and the dark side of the world quietly emerges.

Advocate the friars who are weak in flesh and blood and eternal in spirit. Showing a tyrannical body, there is my invincible martial artist.

Looking at the changes in the world, Lu Ren exhaled in a panic.

“Ding, because of your uninterrupted breathing for 26 years, you suddenly realized something, and successfully realized the breathing technique.”

Hearing the prompt sound in his mind, Lu Ren waved his sword hesitantly.

“Ding, because you were blindly poking a few times with your sword, you suddenly realized something and successfully learned basic swordsmanship.”

After a long time, he looked at the army invading from another world, raised his long sword and slashed it out.

In an instant, the endless air waves rolled back, and the mountains and rivers where they passed collapsed, and the rivers fell.

Then the army was annihilated and bombarded towards the different world. The entire other world was completely shattered by the explosion of infinite fire, and slowly disappeared into the air.

- Description from novelbuddy

Dante was an ageless warlock who had been going from one battle to another for hundreds of years.Following a chaotic encounter with an evil god, Dante unintentionally activates a contract with a demon, thrusting him into the modern world.Resolved to live a peaceful life, his intentions are halted when he finds himself in the middle of a conflict among rival mafia factions—dabbling with the ominous demonic magic that he knows best.

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.