Peerless Dragon Sovereign - Chapter 647: Master of the Desolate Ancient Holy Hall

Alexander, a world-class sales training expert and a holder of the Social Tyrant certification, found himself transported to a parallel universe, entering a world that seemed straight out of a horror story.

However, this world wasn't as terrifying as he had initially thought. In this realm, being a social maestro meant you could do almost anything you pleased.

Leveraging his exceptional social skills, Alexander turned even the most fearsome ghosts into friends. Moreover, as his rapport with them grew, he received additional rewards.

Affinity Level 60

Headless Ghost: “If you like, I can give you this head as a keepsake.”

Affinity Level 100

Female Ghost Teacher: “Darling, stay with me tonight, and let me show you what the Ice and Fire truly feel like!”

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By the fourth year of Su Wan's career, every league rookie hears the same warning from their coach and veteran teammates: “You can try to impress him. You can even try to defend him. But no matter what—no matter if he hurls the most brutal insults your way—never, ever talk shit to him!”

“Miss, since you came back, every three days there will be someone who start a rumor to slander you……”

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.”