The Record of Unusual Creatures - Chapter 8: Wolves and Bats

A car accident causes Yan Chuang to traverse into a martial arts world resembling ancient times, bringing along a 'Purple Mist Palace'.Teaching by Example (Level 1): Your explanations will increase listeners' comprehension efficiency by 50%, and their understanding and thoughts will feed back to you, granting you corresponding 'insights'.The Great Dao Cushions (Level 1): The Purple Mist Palace contains six Great Dao cushions that aid listeners in better understanding explanations and grasping the Great Dao. The effect of 'Teaching by Example' is increased by 1000%. Note: Only two of the six seats can be changed once.Treasure Nurturing Rock (Level 1): You can use 'spirituality' to enhance and nurture items.Method Development (Level 1): You can set up research tasks, gain inspiration, develop martial arts, and complete tasks to gain 'insights' and 'spirituality'. Currently, you can create 2 tasks.Upon reaching the other shore, Yan Chuang laughed and said, “I didn't specifically study martial arts, those were merely insights gained while preaching to disciples.”

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.”