Apocalypse: I Can See the HP Bar, Killing Monsters Drops Loot - Chapter 421: 191 Skull Club_2

[Invincible, showoff, face-slapping, feelgood]“Who is richer? Sorry, Every watch I have is worth billions. Money is just a number to me!”“Wanna fight? Fine, I won't even use my hands and feet. I've never lost a fight in my life!”“You like me? Sorry, even a cruise ship is not big enough to hold all the women I have. Haven't you seen the princess of Anenida lining up for me?”With the invincible system, everything can be easily accomplished.Please don't show off in front of me. I have a nickname called Face-slapping Zhang!

The once greatest Saint underneath the heavens has been reborn after one hundred years. He cultivates with mighty skills, and he fights to once again reach the top of the world!

Don’t compete with me when it comes to concocting pills, 100% effectiveness means nothing to me.

Don’t compete with me when it comes to cultivation speed, I won’t be responsible when you die from embarrassment.

Don’t compete with me when it comes to experience, as I’m an ancient ancestor.

The existence of Jiang Chen is destined to ridicule thousands of geniuses……

- Description from Novelupdates

She was the head of a powerful, medicine-orientated aristocratic family.

Crossing through a millennium, she ended up in the body of the General Household’s “trash” young miss, whose engagement with the Crown Prince was just broken as she suffered under everybody’s taunts!

In the drafting feast, she was re-engaged by the Emperor to marry the famous disabled prince!

Everybody laughed, a blind trash with a disabled wastrel. What a perfect match!

However, they didn’t know that in her hand, she grasped the long-lost primordial pill recipes! Her practice in medicine had reached the apex! Her contracted beasts were unique in the world!

What was the most frightening, was the disabled prince she was engaged to…….

A black-belly full of dirty tricks, with a heaven-opposing cultivation physique, he defeats all geniuses!

In his wheelchair during the day, yet entangling her in bed as he trained his waist muscles… MF! Is he really crippled!?

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.”