Beastmaster of the Ages - Chapter 3507 - Impossible!

Freshman student Yang Dingtian possesses the Nine Yang Body, found only 1 in million. His Yang Fire is incomparably vigorous and thus, he cannot be near a female’s charms for his entire life. On the night of his 19th birthday, he decided to bid farewell to his virgin life. After stealing and tasting the forbidden fruit, he spontaneously combusted as the result!

One day a young man found a mysterious door in his grand father house and that door transported him to Tensura....welcome to the new world...all the credit for the characters and main story goes to the owners, this is just a fanfic none of the characters or the storyline belongs to me...Tensura won't be live until later in the chapters, so if you in a rush, you can quick rocks...

My surname is Wu, and everyone calls me Xiao Wu.

Listen, brother, here are some of my experiences-

Don’t listen to what it says when you fight with the dragon, just fight until it dies;

It’s a little more troublesome to beat the goblin, it’s better not to let it see you, you have to shoot the black gun;

It’s a word to engage in orcs, naked!

If the devil dares to come to trouble, he will break his horns, and he will kneel;

Okay, I’m going to fight at the bar now, I’ll write more about the introduction when I get back

- 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.”