Supreme Electromagnetic Tyrant - Chapter 79 - 51 Martial Arts Eighth Dan_3

First Gift: Dynamic Vision → Bullet Time → Inherent Time Control - Acceleration → Inherent Time Control - Time Stop…Tao Yu reincarnated into a world being devoured by the Abyss and discovered that as long as he was willing to expend enough Yuan Force, he could infinitely enhance his skills.With the help of his special gift, Tao Yu gradually realized that the world fragments within this Abyss were somewhat different, containing parts of Earth’s remains, and even legends from Earth were buried within…

President Forrest raised Zinnia Lawrence, catering to her every need. Zinnia believed that was love. It took two years of marriage for her to realize she was merely his best-kept pet, while she saw him as her entire world.His first love returned, and Zinnia resolutely asked for a divorce. He scoffed, “Can a cat trained from young leave its master? You can't run.”Zinnia ran away and never looked back, receiving proposals daily on her path to beauty.Jenson Forrest went crazy.“Mrs. Forrest! Be good, look at me once more.” He cornered her, his dark eyes filled with intense affection.She smiled gently, “People and dogs are on different paths. Step aside, don't block my romances.”The man held her waist, eyes reddening at the corners, “For the next 365 days, I've reserved the proposal spot. Zinnia, marry me again!”

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.”