The Silly Alchemist - Chapter 80 – Spine-chilling woman (3)

Sanctuary—a word that conjures visions of peace, protection, and unyielding safety. But what truly defines a place as a sanctuary? Can any refuge withstand the relentless forces of destruction, or does it take something more—a spirit of defiance and hope?For Ruseigner and Mae Yakane, renowned wildlife conservationists and environmentalists, the word became their life's mission. As the march of human progress devoured the natural world, the Yakanes spearheaded a monumental effort to carve out a haven for the threatened wildlife and ecosystems they cherished. With global support, they set out to create a sanctuary—a symbol of hope in a world teetering on the brink of environmental collapse.But fate is a cruel architect. Just as their dream took shape, tragedy struck. Ruseigner and Mae were lost, leaving their vision unfinished. Their son, Froja Yakane, inherited not just their legacy but the weight of their unfulfilled promise. At just 19, Froja’s life was stolen by an assassin’s hand. In his final breath, he vowed to seize any chance at redemption—to be stronger, bolder, and more relentless in pursuing his parents’ dream.And fate, for once, showed mercy.Reborn in a parallel world, Froja becomes Canna—a young man with a second chance to build the sanctuary his parents envisioned. But this world is far from welcoming. As Canna traverses lands filled with strange races and uncharted territories, he faces challenges that test his resolve and his belief in the very concept of sanctuary. Enemies, both seen and unseen, conspire to crush his efforts, but in the darkest of moments, Canna finds allies in the most unexpected places.Through trials of strength, cunning, and heart, Canna learns that a true sanctuary isn’t just a place—it’s a beacon of hope, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, and a defiance against the forces of chaos.Will Canna succeed in creating the sanctuary his parents dreamed of, or will he be consumed by the perils of this new world? In a tale of courage, transformation, and unwavering determination, Canna’s journey will reveal the true meaning of sanctuary—and the price one must pay to protect it.

A mental patient, or a born policeman?

A peerless genius, or a master of crime?

There are cops who are least like cops, and there are criminals who are least like criminals.

Neither good nor evil is absolute.

It is a grey world we live in.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”

A poor boy whose parents died accidentally found a mysterious space and set foot on the avenue of cultivating immortals. From then on, he planted spiritual herbs, refined elixir, opened shops, trained troops, and established a fairyland…

This article is about cultivating immortals and farming, not for mortals, not for stallions.