Eternally Regressing Knight - Chapter 509 - Reflection of the Ferryman

An immortal cultivator is murdered by her master and finds herself reborn in the strange world of One Piece. She hardens her resolve to once more tread the path of cultivation, only to find it won't be as easy as she thought.

There was nothing left to lose in his life.He had lived as a hero. He had started at the bottom and worked his way up to the top, at the end he become the best, yet he had always been betrayed by those he had tried to protect.Humanity did not deserve his protection.When everything went out and he could no longer even hope to beg for his life, he could do nothing but look up at the blood-red sky among the corpses of demons and angels.He wished for one more chance, just one more chance.And when that chance was given to him, he swore that he would change everything. He would no longer be a hero to save people, but an anti-hero to save the world.Sacrificing hundreds of people to save an elf, poisoning hundreds of people to save a group of half-demons.He didn't care about any of that anymore, he would protect those he cared about and send everything else to hell.Not even the gods or goddesses could stop him.

To sum up in a sentence, *slag men **washing white daily, transmigrating to different worlds to wash white, and the goal is to become a good man!

Note:
*Slag men refer to men who play with women’s hearts aka scum.
**Washing white means to come clean, fix up your life.

- Description from Novelupdates

The boundless universe is full of many wonders.

I, Chen Ping, only have one sword!

I can move mountains, overturn the seas upside down, suppress demons, slap the face of gods, pluck the stars, break rivers, destroy cities, and… open the heavenly abode!

***

The Midland world was full of wonders.

In the center of the world, there was a scholar who had once used a sword to slash out a waterfall of the Milky Way. This was the person he was the most proud of.

At the edge of East Sea’s cliffs, there was a nameless Daoist who was unwilling to ascend to the peak of a mountain. He only wished for a cool breeze to brush against his face.

In the Western Pure Land, there was an old monk who liked to treat people to chicken soup and tell stories.

In the southern border of the Wilderness, there was a blind painter who controlled golden-armored puppets that were as tall as mountains to move the hundred thousand mountains, creating an embroidered picture.

A impoverished youth who grew up in the north. One day, he saw tens of thousands of Sword Kinesis Immortals above him, like a swarm of locusts crossing the border.

He wanted to see for himself the scholar that the storyteller had mentioned, the surging tides of the East Sea, the vast swamps of sand in the west, and the majestic mountains of the Southern Wasteland.

Thus, one day, the youth picked up the wooden sword and began to descend south.

- Description from novelupdates