The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound - Chapter 484: The Marquis of Discord (4)

An entomologist’s soul transmigrates into a cultivation world, inhabiting the body of a small, obscure cultivator who specializes in insect manipulation. Reborn, he desires only to avoid conflict and quietly develop in a mortal village.Inspired by the “Sun-Moon Heart Sutra,” he creates his own “Ten Absolute Scripture.” Inspired by the “Nine Deaths Divine Art,” he devises the “Purgatory True Demon Technique.” Moved by the “Eternal Life Sutra.” he extrapolates it into a hundred layers.With boundless creativity, extraordinary insight, and unlimited time, he pioneers new techniques, pill formulas, artifact designs, array formations, gu recipes, poison concoctions, and brewing methods—all entirely of his own invention.While others cultivate paths of slaughter, he alone forges and cultivates the path of self creation.

[Time Travel + Pocket Dimension + Strong Female Lead + Happy Ending + Both Pure]Jiang Ning thought that someone like her, with hands stained by blood, was destined for hell after death.Unexpectedly, upon her demise, her soul traversed to another world, where she encountered a kind-hearted and handsome scholar who brought her home.This scholar was perfect in every way: he could write, paint, style hair, sew clothes, and even tell her after she had killed someone, “Jiang Ning, this isn’t who you’re meant to be.”……Liu Ming’an thought that someone like him, all alone in the world, accustomed to solitude, would remain lonely for life.Unexpectedly, a chance glance in a crowd stirred his compassion, leading him to bring home a battered young woman.This young woman was perfect in every way: she could cook, earn money, catch thieves, fight, and even solemnly promise him, “Liu Ming’an, I will protect you!”……Gentleness collides with indifference, darkness encounters warm sunlight.“You are my redemption!”“You are my good fortune!”

“9th Class Low Grade Familiar.”He was shocked to find that he had summoned the weakest familiar that could be.Only when he saw the status, he couldn't help being more shocked.“Hypnosis? Why can no one else see this? What even is this skill?”

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.”