Killed For 100 Years in Hueco Mundo, Aizen Invited Me To Soul Society! - Chapter 350: Mazuru and Kenpachi Azashiro (2)

Yang Feng somehow transmigrated into a different world and received a legacy of an ‘ancient high tech’ family, which does not directly raise his power, but gives him the technology to build things which are way more advanced than the seemingly medieval world.

With the descent of the first blood rain, the world underwent a dramatic transformation.Once bustling cities became playgrounds for zombies.Some people merely survive in this post-apocalyptic world, while others thrive using their strength in this new world.Opportunists are on the move, and lone wanderers roam the land.Firearms, artillery, superhumans, and mutated creatures drive the world in a new direction.Clove Russell is reborn at the dawn of the apocalypse, leveraging his Space Element superpower to unlock the genetic limits of the human body, dominating the post-apocalyptic world without rival.Linda: “This bastard has no feelings whatsoever, only using me to vent his desires!”Kelly: “He's so strong, so formidable!”Wendy: “I will conquer him! Clove conquers the world, and I will conquer Clove!”

What happens when one eats Death?

Personally, I don’t really know. What I do know is merely one thing.

I’m hungry.

Therefore, I’ll take the heads of these guys and deliver them to my superiors.

Surely, I’ll be able to eat delicious food.

Come, if preparations are in order, we depart.

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.”