My Beloved Dog is the Strongest in Another World - Chapter 815

When Jiang Ming woke up in a strange world, he learned he had obtained immortality. In the dangerous and ruthless world of cultivation, he was determined to carve his unique path. Taking advantage of his immortality, he vowed to learn forbidden skills that would normally eat away at the user’s life.

As he continued on his path, Jiang Ming realized that with his forbidden skills, he could become the strongest.

Using the ability to freely travel between Earth and the fantasy world so he can… become a porter of two worlds…?

Bai Yang’s objective was to establish a production line that would yield hundreds of millions of pills, pellets, and artifacts…

- Description from Novelupdates

A Sky God’s Spiritual Foundation. It was the greatest natural treasure in all of existence, but the sacrifices one must make to gain the approval of such an entity was unimaginable.

Ryu is a genius amongst geniuses.

He was born with the four Grand Ancestral Bloodlines. The Lightning Qilin. The Fire Dragon. The Ice Phoenix. The Fire Phoenix.

He was blessed with an Ancestral Grade Bone Structure and Ancestral Grade Meridians. The Ice Jade Crystal Bones. The Chaotic Silk Meridians…

He was bestowed the First Ranked Heavenly Pupils. The Mysteries of Heaven and Earth Pupils…

However, none of it mattered. Born with a False Spiritual Foundation, it seemed that all of his talent would go to waste. Unless…

Unless he was willing to grasp his Fate in his own hands.

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.”