Imperial Saint Sovereign - Chapter C474

In alternative reality, what if a young padawan that is a descendant of the great Jedi Master Avar Kriss, helped transform the Jedi Order forever and hook some girls in the mean time.(This novel will have elements of the legends to).

Qin Yun, fallen crown prince of Qin Empire. Inherits the martial legacy of nine sun world. The superb martial legacy in his arsenal, insane inscription techniques in his fingertips, surrounded by enemies and beauties abound. But Qin Yun is not satisfied, he wants to go beyond the nine suns into the great astral infinity, to become a GOD.

- Description from Novelupdates

“Listen, the ancient gods are whispering, He said…they will return eventually!”

According to legend, the rulers of this world should have been those ancient gods, and every death of them was a grand rebirth…

Those who believe in the gods wake up the sleeping gods, light torches in the dark, and burn the world.

My father disappeared because he was investigating the resurrection of a certain god, and his life and death are still unknown.

I panicked, but not totally panicked.

Because the resurrected god is me.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”