The Path Toward Heaven - Chapter 80: The Old Ones in a Ruined Temple

In this brutal world ruled by the law of the jungle, Ximen Wei is driven by his desire to return home and escape his past regrets and feuds.

As he becomes increasingly obsessed with achieving his goal, he loses his emotions and humanity, resorting to any means necessary, no matter how unscrupulous or immoral.

He becomes a symbol of massacre and death, a demon god feared throughout the Qi World for his willingness to kill anyone who stands in his way or possesses something he needs.

Follow Ximen Wei's journey as he rises to power, terrorizing those around him in his quest to become a powerful demon god.

[Shelter System successfully bound to host!][Option One: City of Light, save the survivors in the apocalypse and become a glorious and benevolent savior.][Option Two: City of Darkness, humans who enter the City of Darkness can only become your slaves. And you, will be the devil ruling over the apocalypse.]Sorry, I am no saint, I choose City of Darkness! From today onwards, I will be a villain!

Rudel Arses, the first born of one of the ‘Three Lords’ of the Courtois Kingdom, is from a corrupted family, but at 5 years old, he saw a dragon in the sky and his dark future as a villain changed. He was considered an idiot, but was that true? How would his effort to become a dragoon change the kingdom?

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.”