The Divine Twilight's Return - Chapter 6: Star, Regress (4)

Song Yang was a Mercenary King in his previous life, killed by a stray bullet. He transmigrated to a world of cultivation, where the ability to control clouds and move mountains is commonplace.In this life, after taking over the body of a prince who had lost everything, he awakened a system that granted him a legion of thousands of cultivators in the Saint Realm from the start, and thus his story began.Creating a Shura Palace that made the whole continent tremble as soon as it heard his name.Be it a Saint from a Holy Land, an Emperor from a Powerful Empire? An ancestor from a powerful family?No matter who it is, as long as they pay the corresponding price, Shura Palace can kill.

“Hello, A007. My name is Mei Lu, a maid.”

“Bound to you, can you help me find the owner?”

- Description from Novelupdates

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?

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.”