Supreme Master In The Apocalypse - Chapter 117 Second Harem Member

Kang Chan, who possessed a mysterious sense and excellent combat ability!

But what the hell was this anxiety that made his heart stiff!

Puck!

A dull sound was heard and the world turned white.

After tried to wake up, a face was reflected in a mirror on the wall and he saw a fragile high school student there.

Besides, there were only those who bother him around…

‘I’ll kill everyone.’

God of Blackfield!

He didn’t know why, but that’s the name the enemy made up.

It means a god who brings death!

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Catastrophe erupted, it was the end of the world.

Survivors were surrounded by the impregnable wall, a new order was established…

The desire for power, faith, and darkness pervaded each other, layer upon layer of brands imprinted in every corner of the heart.

The virus wreaked havoc, were these humans’ true colors?

“I unexpectedly survive, I want to live.” –Du Dian

“We live in a world of gliphs. The left arm chamber, right arm chamber, left leg chamber, right leg chamber, wind chamber and the heart chamber. These are the six chambers of gliph that represent a glipher’s quality.”

In his previous life, he was the best metalsmith on the continent; even the most powerful fighters came to him for weapons. He was no doubt a powerful man, but sadly, his incapability to retaliate left him at the mercy of others.

Chui Yim, once dead, reincarnated into the world of gliphs, accompanied by Heaven’s Flame. However, the violent introduction of Heaven’s Flame crippled his heart chamber.

Born with a heart deficiency, he was unable to perform strenuous exercise, let alone engage in physical fights. As such, his father who worked as a doctor made him study hard and sent him to the Riding Clouds Academy, where he met a close friend who was escaping from his family’s mu*derer.

Determined to write his own destiny, Chui Yim vowed to break limits and take up the path of a cultivator.

Vincent van Gogh, the painter who refused to be an accessory Of power and painted with his soul at the tip of a brush, was not understood by anyone and had to die like a madman, and he woke up in 21st century Korea.

Like a wheat field melted with gold, like a sunflower that swallowed the sun, a dazzling painter once again takes the brush.