Top-Class Comprehension: Start with Basic Fist Techniques - Chapter 1065 - 327: Reincarnation Divine Body and Asura Divine Body! Clone Fusion, Power Soars!

Reborn into a fantasy world of magic and aura, Rowan is the second son of a ranch family living boringly in a backwater village, with no magic and no inheritance.To avoid rotting away in the countryside, he becomes a mercenary instead. Better to die fighting than waste away.After his first kill, the Black Dream awakens: a power that lets him plunder abilities from everything he defeats.But it's more than that. When he fights alongside others, their techniques become his: a master archer's deadly precision, a hunter's supernatural tracking, an assassin's shadow-step…Every ally becomes his arsenal.Ascension awaits! From the lowly dirt to the throne of the gods.

A blizzard had raged for ten days, with temperatures plummeting to below minus fifty degrees Celsius.Yet, that wasn’t the most terrifying part. The impending disasters of rat plague, extreme heat, drought, acid rain, tornadoes, and other severe weather conditions would follow one after another, each one a veritable hell on earth.Gu Pan was reborn seven days before all these calamities began. At this time, her Space was still with her, her husband was still alive, and she needed to hoard resources like crazy.Food, clothing, shelter, transportation, medicine, weapons, electricity, and all other essentials of life—she had to stockpile enough for the next lifetime.What? The ‘friend’ who had betrayed them in the previous life was also reborn? And they had hoarded a warehouse full of supplies, even more than them? No more nonsense, just take it all into her Space.After the apocalypse began, she and her husband kicked off a spree of zero-cost acquisition.In this life, they would take revenge on their enemies and settle all scores. Those who had hurt them would be repaid double.

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.”