Imperial Cultivation - Chapter 322 - 319: Parting the Waters

30 year old Lu Ziwen was born in poverty and after struggling for a lifetime, he is finally able to perform in the Golden Hall symbolizing the highest honor. However, an hour before taking the stage, he was killed by his lover.

With eyes opened once more, he was unexpectedly born again in the body of the fallen star Qi Mu!

Who controls the world with notes?

Who is the king of the classics?

Qi Mu: I’ve conquered you; I am the king of classical music!

Min Chen: … As long as you are happy.

This is a story of a reborn violinist, vengeance, struggling for the top, and dominating the world of classical music!

- Description from Novelupdates

What if you had a system that could rewrite reality itself?Lucius transmigrated to this new world with his amazing system that let him hacks any beast but because of his arrogance, he was chased and sealed by people who were jealous of his talent.Fortunately, Lucius had created a new body with his system. With this new body he vowed to be secretive and also become the strongest by using his system that can hack everything even making his beautiful enemies into his beasts.Erase a rival’s talent? Done.Enhance an ordinary beast to perfection? Easy.Rewrite a noble’s fate? Child’s play.Making Villainess into his slave? Perfect ending.With his loyal slaves, a growing arsenal of hacked abilities, and also his devious mind, Lucius sets out to dominate everything. But as he reshapes the world to his will, he can not hide forever so can he remain in the shadows long enough to achieve his ultimate goal?Enter a world where reality bends to one man’s will. In a world ruled by power, Lucius doesn’t just win. He rewrites the game.Unleash the System. Rewrite Fate. Dominate All.

“Let go of that kitty cat!”

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.”