Card Apprentice Daily Log - Chapter 2348 Duel Rules, Froslings

Qin Huai crossed into the mysterious fantasy world where demons were rampant and heroes were rising. He had no background or cultivation qualifications until the day he became a medicine store apprentice and started to cultivate with his fellow apprentices.

He found that the experience orbs actually fell out of his master and brothers.

He learned to grind medicine with his brothers.

“Ding! ‘Medicine Art’ Experience+3!”

His Master and brothers practiced martial arts.

“Ding! You picked up an ‘Essence of Qi Cultivation (White)’, ‘Qi Cultivation’ experience +3!”

He killed the bandits in the mountains and picked up their cultivation.

“Ding! ‘Astringent Breath Technique’ experience +13!”

His master said that the technique was not good at attacking, had a cultivation limit, and could only prolong life.

But when Qin Huai picked up the experience until the Astringent Breath Technique was 50 times stronger, his body took a tremendous change. A gentle push of his hand was like a wave. He could now both attack and defend.

People said that when two kinds of cultivation methods clashed, continuing to cultivate would lead to the death of the cultivator.

However, when Qin Huai picked up experience and directly skipped the cultivation process, he found there were no side effects at all!

When Qin Huai practiced more and more cultivation methods, he suddenly found that those methods interacted with each other in his body and became stronger skills.

…

Qin Huai, who could pick up experience, began to wander among the major powers.

He saw flesh growing from white bones and the dead revived.

He saw demons cooking 10,000 people and exuding extremely evil energy.

He saw the Buddha statue chanting in the temple. Sanskrit sounded like a mantra.

Qin Huai silently picked up experience in order to settle down in the chaotic world.

At level 2, most people unlocked their first talent; those who didn’t were considered fortunate, as they had the potential to unlock rarer talents requiring higher levels. The world’s most rare and powerful talents were revealed at level 5. But what if someone didn’t obtain a talent? Luck quickly turned to misfortune as they were labeled talentless, with no hope of gaining a talent. Sol was one such person who was unable to unlock his talent, but he refused to give up. He persistently fought and trained every day, slowly increasing his level despite the disadvantage in skills. He held onto the hope that, one day, he would be bestowed with a talent like everyone else. As years passed, his determination began to wane until one fateful day. You have leveled up! +5 Free stats. Talent Unlocked - [Siphoner]! This event marked the beginning of his story.

At nineteen, Dexter was already one of the world’s most celebrated authors. His books topped charts. Critics praised his genius. Fans devoured every word. But behind the acclaim was a lonely boy—raised without parents, love, or real friends—just stories.He published his first novel at fourteen. By seventeen, he was a literary star. But the higher he rose, the hollower it felt.Then came the writer’s block. The headaches. The blackout. And the transmigration.Dexter awoke in the body of Daylan, a disgraced young man in a crumbling, medieval world laced with steampunk tech, divine law, and political unrest. Daylan had already failed two of the three sacred Trials—rites that determine one’s magical potential. He was drowning in debt, entangled in plots to overthrow a corrupt Divine Church, and branded a lost cause.With no way back, Dexter took the final Trial—the most brutal of them all—and began a path that would earn him the whispered title: Soldier, Poet, King.But as his powers grew, one question haunted him: Did he truly die? And if so, who—or what—chose to bring him back?

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.”