Deviant: No Longer Human - Chapter 639 Solving Problems like Pro!

Bok Taejin was an ordinary young man who met an untimely death in a car accident—only to wake up in the body of a starving teenager in a strange world. Stranded in the wilderness, he is rescued by a group of villagers and soon discovers that he has transmigrated into the new Sect Leader of the long-forgotten One Flower Sect—a once-powerful immortal sect now reduced to nothing.With no cultivation talent, no resources, and only a mysterious technique called the Life and Death Technique, Bok Taejin soon realizes that the key to reviving his sect isn’t just through martial arts—it’s through farming. Hidden within the sect’s abandoned fields are spiritual herbs and ancient crops with untapped potential. By cultivating the land, nurturing rare plants, and trading with nearby towns, he slowly builds a foundation for the sect’s return.But as word spreads of a declining sect suddenly producing miraculous crops and powerful elixirs, forces from the martial world begin to take notice. Can Bok Taejin grow his sect back to its former glory while fending off enemies who seek to steal his secrets?Armed with nothing but his wits, a hoe, and an iron will, the last disciple of the One Flower Sect is about to change the world—one harvest at a time!

This is a story about a badass,

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.”