The Yandere System in the World of Cultivation - Chapter 63 Do You Have A Wife Or Daughter?

In Zoroastrianism, the mother of evil gods is the source of all evil and darkness!

Legend? Created six demons of “Malicious”, “Chaos”, “Aging”, “Defection”, “Weakness”, and “Destruction”!

Saigo, who obtained the spirit of the “Mother of Evil Gods” in Hakoten, became the “Supreme Supreme” in the overlord;

Look at the ‘ruler of death’, ‘Void Witch’, ‘Tivat’s Demon God’, ‘The Great Demon of Gensokyo’, ‘Dxd’s Demon’, ‘Creator of Demon God Pillar’ and others;

Xixiang is convinced that he has lived up to the name of the “Evil God”;

That being the case, he would shout out the phrase – God is dead!

- Description from novelbuddy

Damian, a Centurion of the Punishment Unit of the Baroque Kingdom. “Damn it.” Just once. If I were given just one more chance… ‘I would have truly conquered the battlefield with these guys.’ At the age of 30, he closed his eyes on a nameless battlefield. But when he opened them, he found himself back 17 years in the past. And this time, he had a perfectly functioning mana core that could wield magic. ‘This time.’ I will rise higher than anyone else. I won’t be swept away by the turbulent times. ‘I will conquer.’ Damian, who has returned to the past, wields his spear toward the world.

A sudden and unprecedented event occurred and took place on Earth.A fissure instantly appeared in the clear blue sky, revealing a void devoid of any light beyond, instantly covering the whole planet, leaving no Life, no Hell, and no Paradise behind...Hence the start of a new chaos and a great beginning of life devoid of any hope began.In this apocalypse and lawless world without any limits set upon its beings, a silent dark wisp took form.A wisp that was bound to become the Horror of All was born...“Wait… I’ve become a Ghost?!”

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.”