Blood & Fur - Chapter Fifty-Two: Father and Son

Two years ago, Xu Xuan was the No.1 genius of the Xu Family and was rather famous among the young generation in Cloud City. His mother died of illness when he was a baby and he wanted to be father’s pride. That was why he challenged the person with the much higher cultivation in the martial arts competition.

Unfortunately, Xu Xuan lost. And his dantian was broken by vicious enemy. But he didn‘t reconciled at all. For the past two years, he had but he had persisted in cultivating every morning in the hope that there would be a miracle. However, there is not until he met the superior of Mysterious God Realm who was escaping. After a fierce struggle, Xu Xuan swallowed unique treasure Nine-Swallowing Divine Jade and obtained a low-grade Heaven rank cultivation technique Five Spiritual Arts.

Xu Xuan would never forget the scenes of how the marriage was annulled yesterday, nor the disdainful gazes of others, let alone their smiles after his dantian had been broken. What legendary road will this ordinary boy from the wilderness embark on？

- Description from Novelupdates

I failed and will challenge again.

Nine harmonic zither chords shook the universe, who dared to not acknowledge the lord?

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.”