The Highest Bounty - Chapter 73 - First Time On Constlac

Wu Chen traveled to a new world, but he is trapped on July 7, 2020!

He indulged himself, did all kinds of evil things, ran away in despair, and even committed su*cide hundreds of times in all kinds of ways. But when the day ends, everything goes back to the beginning.

While getting stuck in the repetitive days, he spent countless days learning and studying. And so, he has mastered hundreds of languages and can communicate with 99.9% of the world’s population. He is also proficient in all mainstream musical instruments, arts, dancing, performances, shooting and martial arts… In fact, he is comparable to a master in any and every one of them.

In this way, he lived for a thousand years.

However, when a new day dawns and the sun rises as usual, the date is… July 8, 2020!

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Theo volts, an 18-year-old Brazilian, died on his way home as he was struck by lightning. Upon waking he discovers that he was no longer human but a red fox. In addition, he also came to discover that he was gifted with a miraculous system.

Defeating monsters and frantic animals, Theo climbed into his cultivation, turned into a golden fox and conquered a Goblin village.

The Nine Tribulations Immortal Venerable is reborn in the city, sweeping away contemporary enemies.In front of me, brothers stand. Enemies kneel. Foes lie down.Women, any pose is OK.

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.”