Falling In Love With The King Of Beasts - Chapter 8: Not Strong Enough

as a gamer, who knew the powers will be diversified in the world of Pirates and Navys?this is a story of a person who is thrown into the beautiful, but dangerous and horrendous world of One Piece, as the Holder of the System with the Job of a Gamer.

Nascent Soul True Monarch failed in his celestial tribulation and returned to his student days.2013, when the mobile internet was just emerging, amidst the surging tides of the era, a cultivator's daily life.

In the territory of Zhao State, there are Liuxuanmen of the martial arts sect of Jianghu.

Su Yu became a handyman disciple who was just getting started.

Having obtained the sign-in system, he signs in at different places every day, and there will be various rewards.

Sign in at the center of the training ground and get the reward [Jiuyang Zhenjing]!

Sign in on the cliff near the residence of the handyman disciple and get the reward [Millennium Snow Lotus]!

Sign in in front of the sect library and get the reward [Lingbo Weibu]!

…

In this way, it was not until decades later that Su Yu discovered that he seemed to have surpassed the peak of martial arts and reached the level of cultivating immortals before he knew it…

Ninety-eight years later, a martial arts devil who was born out of nowhere made waves in the territory of Zhao, and no one in the martial arts world was his opponent.

Until this day, the martial arts devil killed Liuxuanmen and met Su Yu who was sitting outside the library, basking in the sun on a rocking chair…

- 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.”