Warlock of The Magus World Fan Fiction - Chapter 325

Want to burn Night City to ashes?Want to overthrow these corporate enterprises?Want to try a fully immersive virtual reality game?What are you waiting for? Quickly order “Future Horizon - Cyberpunk”! You won't regret it! Free spots available!Huang Ban, Military Tech, Kangtao, Biotech, Su Petrochem: Where did these cyber nutcases come from?Ye Corporation: Don't look at me, you wouldn't mistake these jumping monkeys for rogue AI, would you?Blue Eyes: I don't know them.Night City's hottest sex icon: Why does every one of these lunatics want to kill me for a photo souvenir?Regina: Lin Miao, there are suddenly a lot of cyber psychopaths on the streets, do you have any clues?Lin Miao (whipping out a whip): I know, they are my loyal machine servantsPlayer: Dog planner, get out here! Who taught you that implants need a separate set of equipment? Guns and bulletproof vests aside, even the damn body requires me to pay? And Adam Heavyhammer, Darling~~ My secret weapon will give you an unexpected surprise~~

Qi Condensation. Foundation Establishment. Core Formation. In the current world, only these three realms are known to be achievable. Nascent Soul is but a legend and the realms above it lost to the the long river of time. The modern era is known as Cultivation Civilization, a balance of power and civility, excess and moderation. While cultivation remains a secret practice, it has long since exposed itself to the mundane world, quietly intertwined with each facet of society. While the world appears to be at peace, what lies underneath is a conflict between human, cultivator, and demon, brewing for ages and waiting to implode. Yet in the wake of humanity’s rapid industrialization, qi—and consequently cultivation—is dying.

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.”

Listen here, because I've seen it with my very own eyes.William Oh was born on the hundredth floor of The Tower, to the greatest Climbers of the ancient world, steeped in the Tower's lethal miasma from the moment he drew breath, giving him strange and unnatural powers.They say he is an immortal being who circles the dreams of mortal men, resurfacing wherever the need is greatest. Those who disparage him will fall into despair, but if you're a Climber in a tight scrape, look to the sky and say a little prayer.Maybe he will appear?Odds are probably better if you pay for my drink.- Rumor overheard on a 1st Floor Tavern. Originator did not pay his tab.