Prime Originator - Chapter 825 - Tenacious Spirits

The second moon marked the beginning of a revolutionary change.

With the emergence of monsters and dungeons in modern society, and the ability users who fight against them, the world faces a shift in its paradigm.

It heralds the advent of a new energy source and the decline of traditional occupations.

Common sense thus becomes warped and imagination becomes reality.

[Battle in different worlds] [Get characters from all worlds as imperial spirits]

Blue Star, the arena of the heavens is coming.

Yang Fan, who traveled through time, knew almost all the opponents, and he who cheated, everyone won.

Others used the few imperial spirits as bodyguards, but he used them to form the Ten Thousand Realms Legion.

Unohanaretsu VS Kozuki Momonosuke?

Tsk tsk tsk, Yang Fan said Momonosuke must die…

“Bad Handsome” Yuan Tiangang VS “Sword” Li Xiaoyao?

“I bet on Li Xiaoyao! Stud…”

[Acquisition: Imperial Sword Art]

“The Female General of the Empire” Estes VS “Xialan” Bo Han Commander?

Who else needs to consider betting?

Estes: “I have seen Master!”

“Dead Knight” Ning Caichen VS “Grass Python Hero” Xu Xian.

“…”

Yang Fan looked at the crowd of imperial spirits from various mythological systems around him.

He stated that his goal was to suppress the heavens.

- Description from novelbuddy

Ye Xiao was a superior cultivator in his previous life. The three factions of the realm kill millions of people every time they attempt to seize cultivation resources. Wealthy towns turn to wastelands in just a single night. They cover up their crime with an assertion that the towns were suffering from pestilence and disasters.

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.”