Beast Taming Makes Me Stronger - Chapter 226 - 225: Aftereffects

I am the sword.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, no one dares take ten steps.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, no one can take ten steps.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, ten steps? Not possible!
I am the sword, the sword is me,
On the path towards heaven, each shall wield their own.

“Hey, have you ever heard of the lunatic roaming around the tower?”“Are you kidding me? Who haven't heard of him yet!?”“Hey hey, are you talking about... that person?”Interesting news travels even faster than light, especially regarding the mysterious figure that everyone in the Ethereal Tower is curious about, the lunatic ascender whom thoughts and deeds are so off-place that even the greatest among them just couldn't grasp his intent, almost as if he is ascending a completely different tower than them.While everyone in the tower talks about the lunatic who lurks on each tower's floor more than he is supposed to, the person they are talking about just goes on his merry way to collecting treasures he wants, and while the world is talking about him.“Come on, give me some luck, maybe roll the hundred times multiplier again...”He's sitting while rubbing his palm together, gambling on something that will make everyone faint.

Third Miss Luo relies on her father’s power to create chaos everywhere and is notorious for bullying the weak. When she had nothing to do, she led a group of servants to the streets to flirt with beautiful and handsome boys. For Princess Qingyang, if this kind of person dared to behave wildly in front of her, she would just kill her with a single finger—until she opened her eyes again and found that she became Third Miss Luo, Luo Sheng.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”