Are You Telling An Eight-Year-Old To Survive In The Wilderness? - Chapter 167 - High Altitude Rescue

What will an ordinary man do if he finds out he is God in an Otome game? Of course, save the game’s Evil character, Morrigan! Unknowingly spread more chaos! Establish your own kingdom! Establish your own religion! Kill the Goddess of Light!

Jian Wushuang was reborn in adversity. In order to get his revenge, he began to cultivate Heavenly Creation Skill. With the help of the Heaven defying cultivation method, Jian Wushuang gradually grew into a peerless genius from an ordinary practitioner. With a sword in hand, no one is his match. Using his extraordinary Sword Principle, he killed all his opponents and eventually became number one Sword Master from time immemorial.

A mortal teenager strayed into the immortal way because of an accident, struggling on the road of seeking immortality.

Immortal Road is difficult to climb to the sky, in the face of numerous obstacles, his desire to seek the truth is still unabated.

Looking back again, the green mountains are still there, so the old is boneless.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”