MTL - Steady Development From Douluo - Chapter 160 Alchemy?

Talented in Magecraft but useless in physical combat?

There are always some people in this world who are brave, stubborn, even paranoid, uninhibited, proud, and arrogant. Even in a desperate situation, they will never compromise.

Would rather die than lose.

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- Description from novelbuddy

The world is under invasion by creatures from another world. Martial arts became the most important skill in this world, and all cultivators strived to improve their skills.

Chen Yiming transmigrated to this world with a special ability – the Martial Arts Talent System. The system allowed him to use Skill Points to enhance his talents infinitely.

What if he was born with a physique that was not suitable for cultivating martial arts? He could slowly train in the mountains while waiting for his Skill Points to accumulate. When they reached a certain amount, he could use them to enhance his talent and automatically acquire the physique needed for cultivation.

What if he did not have the complete volume of the martial arts technique he practiced? It wasn’t a problem. With sufficient enhancement to his talents using Skill Points, he could automatically deduce the missing parts in the book.

With the Martial Arts Talent System, he could defeat everyone who got in his way. He could easily climb the ranks in the martial arts world – becoming the top disciple, the top cultivator, then the grandmaster.

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.”