Incredible Insight: Cultivating Immortality at Eight, Astonishing Zhang Sanfeng - Chapter 171

He is handsome, arrogant and is of the elite class. Being straightforward and brave, she shamelessly pursued him, sending him gifts, flowers and tried to get close to him. She was humiliated when his staff gossiped about her and retreated. Then he rejected her and told her they could only be friends. She avoided him but no matter how much she tried, they frequently cross paths.

Suddenly one day he told her. “I want to be your boyfriend.”

What a mess! ! !

Though he received the skills necessary to teleport across worlds, the king who performed the summoning ritual attempted to trick him into wearing a slavery collar, this annoyed him so he kidnapped the princess and returned to Earth.

Eight hundred years ago, Xie Lian was the Crown Prince of the Xian Le kingdom. He was beloved by his citizens and was considered the darling of the world. He ascended to the Heavens at a young age; however, due to unfortunate circumstances, was quickly banished back to the mortal realm. Years later, he ascends again–only to be banished again a few minutes after his ascension.

Now, eight hundred years later, Xie Lian ascends to the Heavens for the third time as the laughing stock among all three realms. On his first task as a god thrice ascended, he meets a mysterious demon who rules the ghosts and terrifies the Heavens, yet, unbeknownst to Xie Lian, this demon king has been paying attention to him for a very, very long time.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”