I'm the Culinary God - Chapter 743 - 331: What’s It Like to Be Forced to Change Houses by a Cat? Super Delicious Dry Burning Fish! [Vote for Monthly Ticket]_2

Soaking in lava, sleeping in an Ancient Killing Formation;

Traversing alternative worlds in a heavy armored vehicle;

Riding a Gundam Sentinel and slaying immortals with Godzilla...

I got myself a stat system, and from then on, I only beefed up my defense!

I just can't help it, I'm afraid of pain! The Daluo Golden Immortals of other worlds are all really fierce, and all of them know super ultimate move with infinite power. They have little meetings every day to discuss how to break through my defense.

I really don't know why they're so obsessed...XD

I am the sword.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, no one dares take ten steps.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, no one can take ten steps.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, ten steps? Not possible!
I am the sword, the sword is me,
On the path towards heaven, each shall wield their own.

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.”