Martial God: Grinding from Mortal Flesh to Immortality - Chapter 43: Martial Arts, A System Created by Humans Themselves

(A truly satisfying power-fantasy novel, lighthearted and completely stress-free, with the only female lead being Tsunade.)Reborn into the world of Naruto, the protagonist embarks on his journey.He is determined to erase all regrets.So, he set a small personal goal for himself first—win over Tsunade!

[Regression: 31 times][Possession: 17 times][Reincarnation: 7 times]Kang Hanbit endured 55 cycles of regression and reincarnation, dragged to the brink by the Goddess.Just before his 56th journey, he gets sent back to reality, only to find his life intertwined with a game called the “Record Project.”But wait—this game’s world is identical to the other world?The 56th journey, which had yet to begin, now continues in the form of a game.

Adrien’s tale is a thunderous symphony of vengeance, mystery, and ascension. Awakened with no memory but wielding a shadow-forged blade, he traverses a fractured world where gods rule through fear and silence. His forgotten blood burns with the legacy of the Godslayers—beings once feared even by the divine. As he hunts corrupted gods and unearths shards of unimaginable power, Adrien evolves from a wandering enigma to a force capable of defying fate itself. Twisting through betrayal, hidden empires, and awakening legends, his journey is not just one of survival, but of reclaiming divinity to break the sky itself.

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”