Spell Weaver - Chapter 8: Recruiter

A nuclear war ushered in the prosperity of human evolution! The higher the bloodline level, the stronger! The young Mo Tian, ​​awakened at the beginning of the S-class King Kong is not bad blood, incarnates the big muscle tyrant, killing all the way! If you are reasonable with me, be reasonable, and if you are not reasonable, you will be blown away!

The blood of King Kong is not bad for the first time to return to the ancestors…the second time to return to the ancestors…the Nth time to return to the ancestors, the blood of Pangu! (The killing is decisive, the extreme way pushes the flow horizontally, if you are not a virgin, do not enter if you are not happy)…

- Description from novelbuddy

I just want to be different, no one can guess what I want to do, the more mysterious the more powerful.

- Description from novelbuddy

A false Sword Saint: Faintly discernible Martial Art and a matchless Sword Art. Killing one man with every ten steps, no traces left behind in ten miles.

A genuine Sword Saint: A deep and resounding bloodline, peerless strength, an inexhaustible power and one chop to destroy the world.

This is the story of a Swords Saint taking the path of a tank who cuts everything down on his path.

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I had finally done it—achieved the ultimate Paladin build. Maxed stats, impenetrable armor, and so many resistances that death itself had given up on me. I was an unkillable tank, an indomitable force. Nothing could stop me.And then my PC exploded.I died.Irony, thou art a cruel mistress.But instead of the afterlife, I woke up as my Paladin character… in the wrong freaking genre. Instead of castles and dungeons, there were people flying around on swords, shooting qi beams like fantasy laser guns.“This is definitely the wrong genre,” I muttered, watching a pompous young master sneer at me.“Kowtow, kiss my foot, and beg for forgiveness!” he declared.I looked at my imaginary maxed-out health bar, then at his flimsy silk robes.Oh, this was going to be fun.