Invincible Divine Doctor of the Beautiful Lady - Chapter 1437 - 1411: Priest and River God

After an accidental death, in order to continue to live, Gu Bai had to choose to go through various wonderful books to complete tasks.

Ye Xuan is a very good doctor. Even though he is only 14-15 years, he has been learning medicine with his grandpa since he was 3 years old. His grandpa is a legendary doctor, of the Medicinal Dao Master level just one step shy of the ultimate level.

But his grandpa suddenly died after trying to cure a mysterious person with the “Hundred Evils Body” and Ye Xuan is now trying to survive together with his uncle. His grandpa left the first half of his doctor’s manual to Ye Xuan. The other half is in the hands of a former friend of his grandpa who now refuses to return it.

Ye Xuan has to become strong to retrieve the 2nd half of the manual. The first half of the manual contains a special acupuncture method which allows Ye Xuan to cultivate much faster than normal people.

When his uncle suddenly disappeared, leaving only a note with the word “flee!” on it, Ye Xuan is left on his own to survive in this world.

When Ye Xuan finally made it into a sect, he was forced to join a waning division of the sect where he is the sole student of a beautiful woman. His master…

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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.”