Flowers Bloom from Battlefield - Chapter 295: General Soujin

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

Born as the fifth son of a Duke, Rex Grimes. Though he was the youngest, he was the toughest contender to the first son of the Grimes, the hope of the Grimes also titled as once in a millennium genius.Will he be able to fight his way out. Maybe not.Facing an unfortunate accident in which he lost all of his cultivation. All his hopes and dreams were lost.{The train has arrived at Valmere Valley}Deciding to go back to his childhood warmth. Rest was the best cure but it seems that there was still a way for him.[Gacha Wheel][Insufficient points]'How do I gain points'[Please Get wives and practice the art of love and creation of life][Only Ying and Yang will give birth the to creation of points]

Rob was a high-level hacker and wanted by many government organizations because he leaked the secrets of many countries. So he didn't dare to come out of his hiding much. Since he was alone, he lived a difficult life, which that he found the joy and the excitement of life in only two things: The rule of the Internet, and the anime world. One day he came across an interesting advertisement on his personal computer that turned his life upside down.[Ding!] [The art publishing system is being prepared...] [The system is ready!] From that time onwards his goal became to draw One Piece manga in the pirates' world!

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.”