Witch's Daughter And The Devil's Son - Chapter 680 King Theron Is Waiting For You

He lived from BC to the Middle Ages, from the Renaissance to the Industrial Revolution, and from Cyberpunk to the Interstellar Age. He has been a king and a prophet, a knight and a nobleman, a versatile artist, a genius inventor…
This is a four-thousand-year human epic——
“To us four thousand years from now:
“Is the world at peace? Is famine extinct? Can people touch the stars? How long is the human lifespan? How far is the boundary of the earth? Human…do you remember us?”
——Excavated from Earth Age Tenth Century BC, Solomon Prayer Book.

- Description from novelbuddy

99 is one, and nine refinements are returned to Xian.

A young town boy, stepping on Xiuxian Road, is not a family, no gold fingers, with his own determination and wisdom, the nine major cultivation system, the nine realms step by step to the peak, and finally ninety-nine one, the achievement of true immortal.

- Description from Uukanshu translation

Like most candidates, Zlatan's dream was a simple one. To pass the hunter's test, join a guild, hunt monsters and reach the A-class.Eventually, as he dreamed of, he achieved it hundreds of years later. Having sacrificed more than he could take in, using the most unthinkable and brutal measures, he became an S-class Hunter instead.Obtaining the Copper Flame back then after the Aura Awakening Ritual, that was his greatest flaw. Taking a span of 80 years to reach a D-class. Still, Zlatan Elmore became the most powerful hunter to exist.Falling on the battlefield against a Two-horned Dragon, he suddenly awoke as his 30 year old self. Given another chance at life, he didn't only have his memories but he's also given a Blank Scroll. This mysterious scroll doesn't only speak, its omniscient!

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.”