Complete Martial Arts Attributes - Chapter 1227 - 1227 Gains Of The War! (2)

Lin Yi failed the college entrance exams and chose a diploma mill university.

And as deserving of a diploma mill university, the first line of the admission letter read:

- Description from Novelupdates

Three thousand years ago, Bai Qiuran, who was extremely talented, was accepted as a disciple by the founder of Qingming Sect, and the young Taoist began to cultivate the path of immortality.

In the year Stardate 1, mankind entered the interstellar age, with interstellar migration, spaceships, alien races, and outer gods...arriving one after another.By the year Stardate 717, Fang Xing looked out upon the cosmic backdrop teeming with dense armies of foreign races and declared that all aliens, cultivators, tentacles, esoteric teachings, and evil gods would be intimidated by his supreme talent and smashed to pieces with his iron fist...Well, this is actually the story of a transmigrator, who whimsically dominates many different worlds with the help of his professional panel...

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.”