My system allows me to copy talents - Chapter 477: Tominaga’s growing restlessness

Gu Shanhai saw the great world of the heavens, and took the life of the third life.

The gods of the world forged an eternal Utopia with blood and fire.

The Red Dragon King led his knights to inspect the dynasty on which the sun never sets.

Scholars talked and laughed and swung their swords to draw thousands of miles of rivers and mountains, and strange demons opened their eyes and clawed to give birth to ghosts and monsters.

…

“Everyone is a player, you can’t call me abnormal because I don’t have digitization?”

- Description from novelbuddy

Black belly, online IQ

Reborn in the magnificent world of cultivating immortals

Everything is based on ‘stability’, and everything is settled before moving, and when moving, there is a thunderbolt, and after moving, there is no sound.

Hidden cards, refining elixir, practicing escape, and practicing spells.

Drugboy official group: 547741836

- Description from novelbuddy

“Shit, is this really how I turn out?!”In the time of war he was known as the Body Flicker, Forbidden Magic Maker, and the Golden Blur.Arthur Vaelthorne.He had so many titles that it was unsurprising that the empire was the side that won the war, all because he had participated in it.A man that had the potential to become the strongest, rivaling the old powers, and the talent to back it up....Only ended up as a hidden boss in a popular game, meeting his end at the hands at one of his own students.A powerful hidden boss, unfortunately he had the fate of any other boss: Beaten by the protagonist.Now, with a second chance and the memories of one of the game's top players, he has a chance to rewrite his fate.

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.”