The Immortal’s Poison - Chapter 314 - Killing the Figurines

In a desolate world where humans are on the brink of extinction, conquering countless dungeons, fighting against ferocious beasts, what happens to someone blind and powerless?

Nial's glorious fate was taken from him when he was only three, leaving him blind and without a trace of mana.

15 years later he was still enduring the humiliation of a rotten society that favored the mighty.

Society nearly took away his innocence and brightness, forcing him to mature, giving him an unbending will.

However, everything changed the moment he awoke his Origin.

He devoured Ancient Curses and slaughtered Gods and Devils!

Angels? He will make them kneel!

Devils and the such? All will be in his grasp

**

Even though I’m blind, I see more than anyone else!

I devour Curses and take control over darkness.

Mark my words…

[It will be all of you that will have to kneel in front of me!]

Just come at me Dragons, Angels, Devils, and Gods…if you dare to!

Otherwise, my ascend will be your doom!

Follow the odyssey of an ordinary, blind youth towards godhood as his fate that had once been taken from him shall be returned.

Witness his pain, and growth to an existence feared even by Ancient Gods and Fiends from primordial times!

She leaned down to look inside the well and sighed. Tucking back her hair behind her ear as the evening wind blew.

“I told you not to be a curious cat,“ she scolded looking at the well to receive a small “meow“ from it. Her cat had stepped on the edge of the well no matter how many times she placed it back on the ground and as expected it fell inside it,

“You know what I“m goin...

Emperor Zi Yu used 5 strikes of his axe to split mountains and unify everyone underneath the heavens. He partitioned the land into 9 areas, thus establishing the Nine Cauldrons which eventually became known as the 9 prefectures.

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.