MTL - War Sovereign Soaring The Heavens - Chapter 4520 The Yao family with all swordsmen

At nineteen, Dexter was already one of the world’s most celebrated authors. His books topped charts. Critics praised his genius. Fans devoured every word. But behind the acclaim was a lonely boy—raised without parents, love, or real friends—just stories.He published his first novel at fourteen. By seventeen, he was a literary star. But the higher he rose, the hollower it felt.Then came the writer’s block. The headaches. The blackout. And the transmigration.Dexter awoke in the body of Daylan, a disgraced young man in a crumbling, medieval world laced with steampunk tech, divine law, and political unrest. Daylan had already failed two of the three sacred Trials—rites that determine one’s magical potential. He was drowning in debt, entangled in plots to overthrow a corrupt Divine Church, and branded a lost cause.With no way back, Dexter took the final Trial—the most brutal of them all—and began a path that would earn him the whispered title: Soldier, Poet, King.But as his powers grew, one question haunted him: Did he truly die? And if so, who—or what—chose to bring him back?

Han Muye, who was full of comprehension, was reborn in the world of cultivation, entered the sect of kendo, and became a sword watcher guarding the sword pavilion.

There are 100,000 swords hidden in the sword pavilion, and the sword watcher needs to wipe the long sword once a month.

Wipe the long sword “Qinghe” to get a wisp of sword energy.

Wipe the long sword “Purple Flame”, comprehend the original sword master’s swordsmanship, Liaoyuan, and acquire the fiery sword intent.

Wipe the spirit sword “mountain”, comprehend the experience of real kendo of the giant stone, and obtain the sword power of the mountains.

…

Han Muye has been watching swords for sixty years, and Han Muye has cultivated sword energy for sixty years.

In sixty years,

There were disciples who came to ask for swords and got Han Muye’s advice.

The saintess of the Demon Sect who came to steal swords was rewarded by Han Muye.

There was a swordsman who came to challenge and returned with a broken sword.

…

Sixty years later, the fairy world invaded.

The disciple who asked for the sword at that time has become a peerless sword fairy, holding the sword to the sky to guard one side.

The saintess of the Demon Sect who stole the sword back then was already the master of the Demon Sect. She only sent a letter to the sword pavilion and led the Demon Sect to fight in the sky.

The swordsman who challenged back then entered the Dao with one step, and his sword qi shot up three thousand feet into the sky.

…

Above the sky, the fairy masters suppressed it.

In the sword pavilion, Han Muye slowly got up, followed by thousands of long swords behind him.

“Today, I, Han Muye, hold a sword across the sky, looking at the gods in the sky, who can enter this mortal world?”

- Description from novelbuddy

Karl Wagner is a disgruntled middle-aged instructor at the Bundeswehr Command and Staff College. He finds himself concerned about the direction which the German nation is headed in—just as he is killed by a terrorist attack. Only to awaken and find himself reborn as an infant, Bruno von Zehntner, the youngest son of a noble family renowned for its part in the German war industry a few years after the founding of the German Empire. Bruno, as he is now known, desires to rewrite history and ensure the German Empire emerges victorious in the coming century. And in doing so, finds himself entrenched in a world filled with Blood and Iron!

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.”