Heavens' Laughter - Chapter 74: Steps

Qi Condensation. Foundation Establishment. Core Formation. In the current world, only these three realms are known to be achievable. Nascent Soul is but a legend and the realms above it lost to the the long river of time. The modern era is known as Cultivation Civilization, a balance of power and civility, excess and moderation. While cultivation remains a secret practice, it has long since exposed itself to the mundane world, quietly intertwined with each facet of society. While the world appears to be at peace, what lies underneath is a conflict between human, cultivator, and demon, brewing for ages and waiting to implode. Yet in the wake of humanity’s rapid industrialization, qi—and consequently cultivation—is dying.

Yang Dongxu found himself reborn and returned to 1979, a time when China was full of opportunities. The Soviet Union or the superpower seems to be doing something.

It seems that Hong Kong’s entertainment industry is not prosperous enough. The NBA is not hot enough, it seems to do something…

- Description from Qidian

Brave, wretched, kind, cunning, generous, greedy, elegant, vicious, happy, perverted, honest, prudish…

In this doomsday world, only by winning in the alien battlefield can resources be obtained to ensure the continuation of civilization.

Every soldier who enters the alien battlefield will randomly get a keyword of his own.

If the words and deeds match the key words, various attributes will grow rapidly and obtain superhuman abilities. On the contrary, if the human design collapses, it will quickly weaken;

This is a world of acting skills;

Acting is eating and drinking, acting is glory, acting is privilege, acting is life…

…

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- Description from novelbuddy

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.”