Rise of The Anti God - Chapter 431: Kale's Loving Wife

This is a story about a young man who sought to fight against his destiny. With the help from billions of Dragon Energies trapped on the Rising Dragon Pillar in his body, he emerged from the dark and quenched himself with the blood of ancient dragons. He fought the heaven with the Buddhist Art for the people he loved and built the Eternity Kingdom with his own hands. This is a story about the rise of the Martial Emperor who will rule both earth and heaven.

Wild Savage Ape → Eight-Arms Mad Ape → Primordial Grey Ape......

After Chen Fan and tens of thousands of people had crossed over to the world of Guardian Beasts, he discovered that he could view the evolution paths and methods of evolution for the Guardian Beasts.

The Guardian Beasts he cultivated could assist him in gathering void energy when they killed monsters!

When the Golden Gyrfalcon kills fifteen level 12 two-headed bugs, System Energy +450 points were awarded.

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Important notice, The Prodigal Son of the Ming Dynasty, also known as “Ming Song”.

Hongzhi eleven years.

It’s a beautiful morning.

At this time, Zhu Houzhao was just an adult.

At this time, Wang Shouren and Tang Bohu were sharpening their swords and preparing for the imperial examination.

At this time, the Little Ice Age has come, and the long and severe cold is raging on the earth.

At this time in Nanhebo’s mansion, Fang Jifan, the idiot son of the landlord’s family and Nanhebo’s direct heir…began his shameless prodigal life.

- 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.”