Shennong Dao Master - Chapter 929 - 50: The 36th Year of the Jingxin Calendar, Prince Liang Dies!

Check out my latest novel: Beyond the Bloodline.◇　◇　◇For billions of years, the gods have stood atop most universes, some being benevolent, while others being malevolent.Suddenly, there was a prophecy.One that foretold the birth of a certain being.The child of a god, born to put an end to the gods.Would the gods really let such a being exist in peace?Obviously Not.Would that being really let the gods mess up his life without retaliation?Definitely Not.This is a telling of that being’s story, as he rises up to fight against the gods who wish to end him, and as he discovers the other powerful entities and horrors that lurk in the vast cosmos.◇　◇　◇WARNING: THE EARLIER CHAPTERS OF THIS STORY ARE CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTENCheck out my other stories from my profile; ' Reincarnated Hero System' & 'Beyond the Bloodline'.

On doomsday, Tang Yu unexpectedly got the Lord of the End System, he remained very calm.

Lack of experts? I will construct a pub so I can make ten draws in a row;

Lack of food? I can’t be too cheap with the large pack full of food supplies sent from the market;

Lack of safety? Arrow Tower, Mage Tower Artillery and all kinds of automatic defence buildings. Having many isn’t too many;

Lack of equipment? Workshop production must produce high-quality items. Sir, would you like one? We are having a 20% discount special at nine!

…………

In short, this is a story of Great Lord Tang building up his territory, attacking some monsters, and ripping off…… Cough, making some money at the same time.

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.”