Martial God: Grinding from Mortal Flesh to Immortality - Chapter 57 Embryo of the True Self, Level 3 Longevity Technique

He was the continent’s strongest and most revered alchemist, Ye Zifeng. He was under one person and above millions. However, due to an unpredictable event, he had died. After his rebirth, he had become the supertrash of the Ye family and suffered disgrace. To make matters worse, he had an argument with his fiancé that led to the break off of his engagement. In this second life, he will work to change his own destiny. He vows to return to the peak of the world, trample on those who laughed at him and rewrite his legacy!

- Description from Novelupdates

The grandson of the richest person, is just this willful.He doesnt wanna just be a rich guy who spends money for living,At this time, he became a bodyguard of a Beautiful CEO,“Be your temporary boyfriend? Can, but...”“Just show me how can we make a deal, or in other words, what can you do for me?”

Lynn traversed the multiverse and was reborn as a half-blood devil.Fortunately, he awakened a system that allowed him to...

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.”