Dragon Ball Roshi - Chapter 329: Invitation Letter

The Great Norther Wall. The Dragon Knights. The Lords of the Winter Mountains. The Descendants of the Primordial Dragon. These are the various titles of the Grand Ducal Clan Ragnar, which boasted a rich, thousand year history. Theo Ragnar resolved himself to aiming for the throne of that very same clan. ‘These cursed chains weren’t something I could slip out of. They were meant to be broken with strength.’

He is the heir of Di Hao Group; decisive, cold-blooded yet dotes on his wife a little too much.

I, Lin Yun, with my exceptional aptitude, had thought that I would be trained as a key disciple, however...“The Demon Sect will never expect us to send such an excellent disciple undercover. Once you attain a high position within the Demon Sect, with our help both from within and without, why would we worry about the Demon Sect's destruction?”Three years later.“The Righteous Path will never expect us to send such a promising disciple undercover. Once you attain a high position within the Righteous Path, with our help both from within and without, why would we worry about the Righteous Path's destruction?”Lin Yun: I just want to quietly cultivate to immortality...

The year was 2026, and the world wasn't what it used to be. Ever since the Abyss Gates cracked open three years ago, spilling monsters and dungeons across the planet, life had turned into a chaotic mess. Cities were half-ruined, half-rebuilt, and people clung to whatever normalcy they could find. Hunters—those brave or crazy enough to fight the monsters—became the new heroes. Everyone else? Well, they just tried to survive.Fin wasn't a Hunter. He wasn't a hero either.He was just… Fin. A lanky 19-year-old with messy brown hair, a chipped front tooth from a dumb skateboard accident, and a power that everyone called useless. Absorption. Sounds cool, right? Like he could suck up energy or steal someone's strength. Nope. All it did was let him “feel” things he touched a little more than normal. He could tell you the exact texture of a brick wall or how warm a coffee mug was—big whoop. No fireballs, no super strength, no flashy moves. Just a glorified touchy-feely trick.“Fin, you gonna eat that sandwich or just stare at it like it's gonna confess its life story?” Meg's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.He blinked and looked across the rickety table at his best friend. Meg was short, loud, and had a wild mop of dyed purple hair that she swore made her look “intimidating.” It didn't.