Rebirth in Journey to the West: Sun Wukong - Chapter 751 - 752: Say It and Do It (3rd update!)

History speaks of a famous Genius... a genius who at the start, no adult whished for their child to emanate.GORT FAIRBANG.That's the name.He was the son of the current village chief, the son who won awards and even headed out to prestigious schools in a grand manner.But one day, a few screws came loose in his head, and he decided to return to the poverty stricken village, throwing away his good cards for the live of nothingness!Crazy! Crazy!He must be insane, many concluded.But what they didn't know, was that this one-in-a-million-year genius, had returned with one sole mission in mind.And that was to SAVE HUMANITY!

Li Muyang had transmigrated, and the good news was that he had a system. The bad news was that this system could only be used to play games. Oh well, if it’s playing games, then so be it. It’s better than having nothing. In the game, he was powerful and mysterious, causing the extraordinary fairies to be shaken to their core. Since it’s just a game, there’s no problem in aiming for the full compendium route, right? It wasn’t until one day that the fairies from the game showed up at his door that Li Muyang was truly startled. What was supposed to be just a game, how did it become real? “So... listen to my excuse!” I was really just playing a game!!

A global game, starting with inheriting the legacy of super god-level civilization, a universe in the palm of your hand!

If you feel the seedlings of this book, there are thousands of people who have ordered this old book (the era of global gods) and send it over by clicking on the author’s name.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”