The Skeleton Soldier Failed to Defend the Dungeon - Chapter 40. The Reason Wings Rot in the Cave (8)

I fell into a wannabe murim.But apparently martial arts is supposed to be difficult?Hm… Is it really that bad?

To the one who has never owned, obtained, or enjoyed anything throughout their entire life.“You have been chosen.”Thus, I shall bestow this power on you, for you are ’empty.’The power of the Void.Be my apostle and carry out my will.

The Immortal Path led to Longevity and Sovereign was heading in ease. When the Longevity was no longer in ease, all living beings were just prisoners. Conspiracy, internal strife, and the invasion of the others, all of it emerged together. 

In such a world, there was such a young man. He made his way upstream, stepping on blood, defying the emperor, destroying the various kings, and slaughtering his way through the hundred clans to form an Immortal Path towards the throne of Sovereign! The Immortal Path was endless, while the Sovereign was limited. He used his blood to forge his immortal legend.

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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.”