Warlock Apprentice - Chapter 1854: Section 1855: Migrating Refugees

The fiancée has betrayed, but how could she know that the man she looked down upon was in fact a prodigy with healing and martial prowess!

Lin Wudao has traversed, and there is an invincible corpse collection system.

As long as you collect the corpses for the strong, you can get the things they owned or touched as rewards during their lifetime, and the obtained items are still strengthened.

Lowest, ten times stronger!

[You collected the corpse of the great emperor Jiang Taichu, and gained ten thousand years of cultivation! 】

[You collected the body of your fiancée Jiang Qingxue, obtained the Zichen Sword, a humane spirit weapon, and after strengthening it ten times, it was upgraded to become an extreme spirit weapon, the Xuantian Ancient Sword! 】

[You collected the bones of an immortal, obtained a ray of immortal origin, enhanced it by 100,000 times, and upgraded it to become the original origin of Hongmeng. After refining it, you can be promoted to the immortal emperor! 】

…

Since obtaining the invincible corpse collection system, Lin Wudao has embarked on an invincible road that can push through the ages and suppress the heavens.

- Description from novelbuddy

The daughter of a duke, the stuttering Maximilian, married a knight of lowly status at her father’s coercion.

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.”