My Wife is A Sword God - Chapter 729: Youth Only Comes Once

Crossing to One Piece world, he became Roger’s younger brother.

Unexpectedly, Gol-D-Roger who was in his fifties had a teenage brother. But he was so weak.

Fortunately, at the age of sixteen, he actually found himself with a possession soul system.

He had attached to the master IP man, also to the White Phoenix and to Ge Nie with his strong ability of the Hundred Step Flying Sword.

If you think that he can only Purchase these? Then you’re wrong!

Pain, Itachi, Ichigo Kurosaki, as long as there is money, any soul can be Purchased.

- Description from Novelupdates

At the press conference, reporters bombarded Chen Xing with questions. “Can you explain how someone as young as you clinched the championship? We heard accusations from other contestants that you've been cheating? Is that true?”Chen Xing shoved the microphone that was pushed up to his nose away, his face filled with annoyance, “I want to state again very seriously that I haven't cheated!”As his words ended, Chen Xing waved his hand and summoned a behemoth that blotted out the sky, then jumped onto its back. “Damn it, I can't stand this anymore. Just because I raised them well, they say I cheated? My crocodile accidentally ate a demon, and that's cheating?”

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.”