Godclads - Chapter 29-1 Missing in Action

Standing before you are:

Guardian and patron of darkness,

Disruptors and Reshapers of Order,

creator and persecutor of licking dogs,

The tea master, the goddess of the dark night, the nightmares and gravediggers of the gods,

The true ancestor of blood – Charlotte de Castel.

With madness, with blood, with curse, with destruction.

This is a legend belonging to the blood family…

- Description from novelbuddy

He is the master of six kingdoms. As long as he wanted, his cavalry is ready to wipe off any country.

Orin Stonewood rises from a prestigious smithing family in the Astral Kingdom. Wealth, recognition, excellence, and charisma - he had it all. But life from twenty-five ended on such terms for him. He falls victim to a dark ritual. The fate after this mystery was to rise and fall in every life he reincarnates in. The ninth reincarnation made him Zmey Ashbane. Into a world of terrifying, exciting tales. It seemed as if every encounter in this world wanted to tie him down for some reason. But he knew his goal. To break free from the ritual and rise as a master of fate, not its pawn.(Update rate: 28 new chapters a week)(The book has a slow progression. If, after reading up to chapter 100, nothing in this story interests you, that means it isn’t for you.)Due to the progression, I will lock the novel at chapter 60.

The boundless universe is full of many wonders.

I, Chen Ping, only have one sword!

I can move mountains, overturn the seas upside down, suppress demons, slap the face of gods, pluck the stars, break rivers, destroy cities, and… open the heavenly abode!

***

The Midland world was full of wonders.

In the center of the world, there was a scholar who had once used a sword to slash out a waterfall of the Milky Way. This was the person he was the most proud of.

At the edge of East Sea’s cliffs, there was a nameless Daoist who was unwilling to ascend to the peak of a mountain. He only wished for a cool breeze to brush against his face.

In the Western Pure Land, there was an old monk who liked to treat people to chicken soup and tell stories.

In the southern border of the Wilderness, there was a blind painter who controlled golden-armored puppets that were as tall as mountains to move the hundred thousand mountains, creating an embroidered picture.

A impoverished youth who grew up in the north. One day, he saw tens of thousands of Sword Kinesis Immortals above him, like a swarm of locusts crossing the border.

He wanted to see for himself the scholar that the storyteller had mentioned, the surging tides of the East Sea, the vast swamps of sand in the west, and the majestic mountains of the Southern Wasteland.

Thus, one day, the youth picked up the wooden sword and began to descend south.

- Description from novelupdates