Astral Apostle - Chapter 535 - Strategy To Deal With The Criminal (1)

The journey to the martial peak is a lonely, solitary and long one. In the face of adversity, you must survive and remain unyielding. Only then can you break through and continue on your journey to become the strongest. Sky Tower tests its disciples in the harshest ways to prepare them for this journey. One day the lowly sweeper Kai Yang managed to obtain a black book, setting him on the road to the peak of the martials world.

When a glowing portal yanks Leo from his struggling existence, he is saved by a mysterious system which gifts him new chance to break free from his side character experienceRebuilding an abandoned guild to honor his family’s legacy, Leo finds himself under the evil eyes of monsters, both from humanity and the gates he ventures intoin short : overpowered necromancer building a guild.

Reincarnation.Or rather... transmigration.Whatever it is, it wasn't something i ever thought i would be a victim of.But here i was...... a villain in the very game i died playing.But... as though that wasn't enough.I am not even going to make it past the first arc.Scratch that.The very first day in the academy...... that's the day i die.(Earlier chaps will involve info drop, the true story starts from the Academy Arc)

The boundless universe is full of many wonders.

I, Chen Ping, only have one sword!

I can move mountains, overturn the seas upside down, suppress demons, slap the face of gods, pluck the stars, break rivers, destroy cities, and… open the heavenly abode!

***

The Midland world was full of wonders.

In the center of the world, there was a scholar who had once used a sword to slash out a waterfall of the Milky Way. This was the person he was the most proud of.

At the edge of East Sea’s cliffs, there was a nameless Daoist who was unwilling to ascend to the peak of a mountain. He only wished for a cool breeze to brush against his face.

In the Western Pure Land, there was an old monk who liked to treat people to chicken soup and tell stories.

In the southern border of the Wilderness, there was a blind painter who controlled golden-armored puppets that were as tall as mountains to move the hundred thousand mountains, creating an embroidered picture.

A impoverished youth who grew up in the north. One day, he saw tens of thousands of Sword Kinesis Immortals above him, like a swarm of locusts crossing the border.

He wanted to see for himself the scholar that the storyteller had mentioned, the surging tides of the East Sea, the vast swamps of sand in the west, and the majestic mountains of the Southern Wasteland.

Thus, one day, the youth picked up the wooden sword and began to descend south.

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