Game of the Monarch - Chapter 262: Side Story 8

Send a mayfly to the world, a drop in the vast ocean!

Ye Chen woke up and found that he had traveled to the Qing Dynasty. Looking at the father lying on the bed, and the mother doing laundry for the neighbor

I thought it was an ancient farming text.

But with the awakening of the system! Only to find that everything is not so simple.

In Xiling in the south, there are Tufuzi running around, there is a restaurant with the same name in the capital, and the Zhang family in the northeast…

In the ancient building

Zhang Family: What the hell are you, you didn’t exist in history!

Ye Chen: I exist to change history.

In the Tomb of King Lu

Wu Xie: Brother’s tattoo is so handsome! He must have some special story..

Fatty Wang on the other side: No! I think Ye Chen’s is more handsome, okay?

Wu Xie turned her head to look: Damn!

Until the combination of various abilities of Shan Hai Jing, he also detached and became an ancient god,

To understand the true meaning of this world.

- Description from novelbuddy

Chen Yuan transmigrated and became a Mountain Patrol Military Officer.The eight hundred miles of Langdang Mountain is his pasture.Unfortunately, the Great Qian Dynasty is in its final years, with its fate collapsing.Demonic disasters plague the land, bringing devastation to all living beings. The human world becomes a battleground, entering the mortal realm to face calamities.Monstrous beings and malevolent spirits take the stage, disrupting the martial world.Chen Yuan, armed with the Tiger Talisman for Mountain Moving, patrols on behalf of heaven, cutting down mountains and destroying temples.In the eight hundred miles of Langdang Mountain, demons and monsters shall not appear!

I belong to a good sect that has never turned its back on me for my poor potential, has never forced me to study martial arts, and even helped arrange a betrothal for me when I was young.

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.”