Hyperion Evergrowing - Chapter 196: Mountains

The plague of insects descended overnight. As an ordinary person without invincible powers and extraordinary exercises, facing blood and death, what should we do at the critical moment of life and death?

(I am a reasonable party, but the novel needs appropriate YY, please do not excessively investigate the rationality of the background in a razor-sharp way.)

- Description from novelbuddy

Lu Sheng, who transmigrates to the Star Sea Era, unexpectedly acquires an attribute panel capable of solidifying every single advancement he makes.In this perilous world filled with alien gods, immortals, Mechanical Ascenders, and more, Lu Sheng relies on himself to progress from mortal flesh to the singular True Self.Years later...Lu Sheng flying across the universe, gazes upon the endless darkness at the edge of the cosmos, where a colossal being as vast as the Milky Way Galaxy—once recorded in mythologies of Blue Star—resides.He speaks faintly, “You might be the most formidable Galactic Life Form I’ve ever encountered. Calling you a god wouldn’t be unjustified.”“Yet it’s a pity, for I have already established the foundation of the Great Dao and forged the singular True Self. Henceforth... you may call me the Martial God!”

“Shit, is this really how I turn out?!”In the time of war he was known as the Body Flicker, Forbidden Magic Maker, and the Golden Blur.Arthur Vaelthorne.He had so many titles that it was unsurprising that the empire was the side that won the war, all because he had participated in it.A man that had the potential to become the strongest, rivaling the old powers, and the talent to back it up....Only ended up as a hidden boss in a popular game, meeting his end at the hands at one of his own students.A powerful hidden boss, unfortunately he had the fate of any other boss: Beaten by the protagonist.Now, with a second chance and the memories of one of the game's top players, he has a chance to rewrite his fate.

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.”