Hiding a House in the Apocalypse - Chapter 14: Reverse Scale

The sky was painted gray forever. The light of the sun was restrained. The darkness of the night was deeper than ever. At such a time, he belonged to a class people didn’t even recognize as ’human’. He was at the bottom of the social stratum, a slave. And when his only family was taken away from him... he no longer had a purpose in life. Yet, he clung to life because of his promise. And he set an impossible goal for himself, just so he’d have an excuse to live. When he finally reached a place he never expected to be, in pursuit of a purpose he expected to fail and die miserably trying to fulfill... he awoke to a night that would change his entire life. He was an insignificant fly, a mere speck in the destruction of the Empire. But he... survived. And, despite being a slave, he gained the blessing of a king. Or rather, the curse...

This is a story of the flesh pushing everything.

In the Great Ye Dynasty, darkness descends, full of evil spirits and ghosts, killing invisible.

In the face of demons and evils, ordinary people can only shiver, curl up in the corner, and wait for their lives to come to an end.

Jiang Dao came through, carrying a martial arts modification system, and any martial arts can be modified infinitely as long as he glances at it.

The mad magic stick method, the eagle claw iron cloth shirt, the poisonous sand palm, the violent ape magic… are all revised to the realm of a thousand years later.

Facing the evil spirits, Jiang Dao had a burly body, muscles all over his body, and his eyes were like electricity.

“Evil spirits? Who said martial arts can’t kill evil spirits?”

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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.”

In the nation of Avrael, power is both a blessing and a curse. Sixteen-year-old Ayato Daath, a poor orphan, had always hoped to live unnoticed in the shadows of the city. But when he is forced to undergo The Rite of Manifestation, the ritual that determines one’s magical potential, his worst fear comes true—he is an Elite.Now torn from the only life he’s ever known, Ayato is thrust into a brutal world of magic, bloodshed, and treacherous politics. In a society where the strong prey on the weak, where rival factions scheme in the dark, and where a single misstep could mean death, Ayato must quickly learn one thing—adapt, or perish. And one thing Ayato already knows is that in Avrael, only the ruthless survive.