The Golden Winged Of Football: Haruma Kusaka - Chapter 55: Guest At The Training

This is a story about a young man who sought to fight against his destiny. With the help from billions of Dragon Energies trapped on the Rising Dragon Pillar in his body, he emerged from the dark and quenched himself with the blood of ancient dragons. He fought the heaven with the Buddhist Art for the people he loved and built the Eternity Kingdom with his own hands. This is a story about the rise of the Martial Emperor who will rule both earth and heaven.

In the Dragon Abyss Empire, nestled within Clear Water Town, young Jiaang Lin awakens from a brutal beating by his cousin Jiaang Ren, only to discover he has been reborn into his younger self. Once a mocked disciple with blocked meridians, Jiaang Lin had risen to greatness in his past life as a prodigious warrior and Pill Saint. Now, with a second chance, he vows to protect his loved ones and conquer his enemies. How will Jiaang Lin change his destiny and ascend to the pinnacle of martial prowess once more?

Mortimer Zhu is an extremely unfortunate high school student who accidentally enrolls into an academy of a dubious nature, where it is the norm to jump in front of moving trains, get dismembered during orientation, and crushed by vindictive bouncing classrooms. Can he stay alive or will he die from the rigors of school? Why have evil spirits suddenly acquired a taste for his flesh?

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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.”