Peerless God of Cultivation - Chapter 15

Marauders shot Yuan in the head and buried him in a ditch. They thought it would be enough to put him down. They were wrong.Rising from the dead by the will of the Gun, demigod of revenge and firearms, Yuan only has one goal in mind: track down his murderers across the Unmade World and slaughter every last one of them. With the bullet-core stuck in his skull marking him as a Gunsoul, he can finally teach these arrogant cultivators a lesson they’ll never forget.But revenge isn’t so easy to claim. To carve out a path through the wasteland, Yuan will have to face power-hungry sects, nuclear cultivators, and weapon-gods. Let them come. No one will bury him again.He’ll give them all a taste of Bullet Hell.

In the interstellar era, the starry sky group came, and human beings stepped into the starry sky, opened the door of psionic energy, and stepped into practice.

Jiang Chen pushed open the door of psionic energy, but he felt that there was something wrong with pushing it open…

Your body has awakened the [Toughness] skill, which is strong and resilient.

Your bones awakened [hard], the opponent stabbed your body with a sword, and the long sword was broken by the bones.

Your hair has awakened [fork], and the sword qi has been divided into thousands, and the net is spread.

Your stomach digested a panacea, awakening [digestion], endless spiritual energy, and instant digestion.

Until one day…you awakened the [Perpetual Motion Machine], the heart kept going, and the power kept going.

Years later, you realize in a trance that your body is already on par with gods.

- 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.”

As a promise, he went out into the world as an assassin. 3 years later, after becoming the Supreme Assassin, he gave up on everything he had and returned to the ranks of ordinary people. But one day, Kismet, a mystical game created by the National Research and Development had appeared.