Back to the Sixties: Farm, Get Wealthy & Raise the Cubs - Chapter 330 Sadness

I reincarnated as a lizard in a martial arts world.“Roar!”“He’s using the lion’s roar!”“To deflect the Ten-Star Power Plum Blossom Sword Technique! Truly indestructible as they say!”“This is… the Heavenly Demon Overlord Technique! It’s a Heavenly Demon, the Heavenly Demon has appeared!”It seems they’re mistaking me for something else.

After dying prematurely from an incurable disease, Yuka Hikano finds himself in a mysterious realm filled with endless doors, each concealing divine gifts from powerful deities. He is not alone—others who have met the same fate of death stand beside him, unaware of the trials that await.They are put through various tests and eventually transmigrated into different worlds. But these worlds are nothing like the Earth they once knew.For Yuka, however, this apocalyptic world feels eerily familiar. It is a realm of endless war, devastation, and chaos—a world he once played in a game. Certainly not the kind of place one would wish to be reborn into.From infancy to adulthood, he must gather strength, knowledge, and allies to survive the horrors that lurk ahead. But when he awakens a system granting him a power beyond imagination, he soon realizes that blessings can also be curses.[You have gained Infinite Mana.]Infinite Mana...?What could possibly go wrong?

The heavens and earth change when the blood phoenix descends.

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.”