As a Father, I Just Want to Watch You Achieve Immortality - Chapter 727: The Immortal Artisan’s Third Transformation Mechanical Beast is Complete, Blood and Flesh Weak, the Immortal Mechanism Ascends (2)

Working in a big factory for several years, Wang An, who was prematurely aging, accidentally obtained a cheat that can earn experience. The improvement of his skills brought him unexpected surprises.

It turns out that some things are not just legends.

Lightness kung fu can really make people walk on the snow without a trace, and fly over the walls.

Vajra is not broken, it can indeed produce the power of vajra, and become the body of vajra, invulnerable to swords and guns.

Congenital qi, grasping iron into mud

 …

Brushing experience does not rely on simple repetition, but requires continuous learning, summarization, and comprehension.

- Description from novelbuddy

Shion, the ‘Hero of Darkness’. He was said to be the strongest hero ever. He believed one thing, and that was his current party members.

“I’ll defeat the Demon Lord with this party!”

That is what he swore to do, but a tragedy occurs. He was painfully betrayed by the girls that he trusted.

He barely held onto his life, but the incident left a deep scar in his heart.

He gave up on living, and while he was wandering around in a forest, looking for a way to die, a single monster appeared in front of him.

“Will you kill me, please?”

The monster asked Shion, who was still strong, despite losing his powers.

What Shion, who wanted to die as well, did was―

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.”