Reincarnated With Three Unique Skills - Chapter 441: Arrival Of the Celestials!

One is the gentle and handsome zombie father who has raised her for thousands of years, and the other is the cold and awkward Professor Tianshi who always lectures her. I hate it, why are you digging by Uncle Mei? Jiang Xiaosi bared his teeth, I’ll choose whose blood tastes better… The story of a bouncing little zombie in the Tuoguxiang sex toy store.

- Description from novelbuddy

Zong Shou woke up from a dream and realised that he had time traveled back ten thousand years, to an era before the God Emperor was had appeared in the world.

Aiden Nightshade was raised as an assassin since he was young and he had become known to the world and many feared him. This talent in assassination gave him the title of the Reaper, but his cause of death wasn’t something anyone could have expected...

But the universe brought him back to another world.

In this world, he discovered that people have different powers that he had never seen before, those who had them were called the Awakened.

To gain power, the awakened had to go to a place called the Otherworld, and clear trials that were given to them.

Using his experience as an assassin and using new skills which he couldn’t dream of before, he decided to become the strongest awakened in this new world.

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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.”