My Daily Life of Farming in the World of Cultivation - Chapter 189 - 24 Lin Familys Patriarch Defeated

Regressor, Reincarnator, Possessor, Traveler, or Predestined. I will hunt down the protagonists that exist in the countless worlds and absorb their abilities.

Here lies the protagonist.

The continent’s hope.
The hero who will save the world.
The hero who currently has a hole through his chest!

With the Spirit of Earth, freed the Dwarfs and gained their trust.
Purified the contaminated Forest of Spirits and became the Fairies’ benefactor.
Resealed the Ancient Stone statues found in one of the ruins.
Exterminated the giant sea serpent that emerged from the sea.
Defeated the 47th Demon Lord of the underworld…

“Aside from assaults and murders there were other death related incidents as well as vandalism, arson, and etc…”

“S-spare me…”

Psh!

This was the protagonist.
But now he has died by my hands.

Ning Ruogong died to Zebras as he laid his hands on The Energy System, which reincarnated him to the Southern continent of the Planet Kumia.

How strong will he become after cultivating as an undying entity?

Xiaya reincarnated in the Dragon Ball Universe as a Saiyan 12 years before the destruction of Planet Vegeta.

Watch him as he creates the strongest legend of Dragon Ball World from the beginning.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”