Fantasy World: I Can Travel To Cultivation World - Chapter 161: Destruction Of Duke Dressrosa Army(I)

Kurogami Ichiro was desperate because he couldn’t achieve what he wanted when he once started his martial arts path at age of 8!

Ziel Grisel (Nijisaki ken) succeed defeated the fallen god-king in divine war. But he was cursed by the god and lost all his emotions. Until finally he created the reincarnation magic of his skill to remove the curse.

900 years later it has passed and ken successfully reincarnated. Unfortunately, The curse cannot be eliminated. And ken must be forced to live his life without his emotions. Ken finally Determined to live a quiet and peaceful life in those days as a….Butler?

“Li Qingshan, as the eldest disciple of the Ascension Sect, the prince of the Dayan Dynasty, was actually bewildered and let go of the Demon Sect Heavenly Concubine, do you know the guilt?”

“I would like to give up my status as a big disciple, be imprisoned in Siguoya, and wipe the forest of steles.”

“Yes, but you must abolish your cultivation base, smash your roots, and you must not go out for the rest of your life!”

Since then, Li Qingshan has been living in seclusion, thinking about crossing the cliff, wiping the forest of monuments, and actually activated his full-level comprehension.

[You watch carefully, stimulate your full-level comprehension, and realize the Dahe sword qi]

[You watch carefully, stimulate full-level comprehension, and comprehend triple sword strike]

[You watch carefully, stimulate full-level comprehension, and comprehend Fantian Yin]

Eighty years later, the Immortal Dao Golden List came, ranking the masters in the world, and Li Qingshan directly occupied the first place.

The list’s evaluation of him – the god of the world!

- 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.”