Cultivation: Being Immortal - Chapter 506:

“Miss, since you came back, every three days there will be someone who start a rumor to slander you……”

I, the mighty Telepath Starlord, got banished into the mortal world. The days in the mortal world are much better than those in heaven! Everything is here — money, authority and most importantly stunning beauties! I am from a rich family. Yes, I am indeed wealthy now. The kind of wealth where you would not want to displease me. Domineering CEOs, military big shots, business geniuses, you name it — I know them all! I know everything you are thinking about. You can’t defeat me anyway, how are you going to go against me? A century in the mortal world is only equivalent to a hundred days in heaven.

Reidar's seemingly ordinary trip to visit his parents spirals into a chilling nightmare as reality itself begins to unravel. After losing consciousness, he awakens to a horrifying revelation: he is not alone. Monsters lurk in the shadows, and the world he once knew has transformed into a realm of terror.But the strangeness doesn't end there. An alien force has implanted a mysterious system within his mind, granting him access to unimaginable power and knowledge. Through this newfound connection, Reidar discovers that the world has met its catastrophic end—the apocalypse has arrived, and with it, he has acquired extraordinary powers that defy comprehension.Join Reidar on his thrilling quest for dominance as he harnesses his abilities to amass an unstoppable army of beasts, valiant knights, and relentless undead. Follow his rise to power as he becomes a force of nature, feared by all, including those who gave him the very powers he now wields.

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.”