Unserious Beast Tamer - Chapter 537 - 295: Fierce Battle, Defend the Arena_4

In the world of dragons and snakes, the talented but congenitally sick martial arts master was reborn as the sole heir of the 19th-century Canadian manor owner. He thought he would make money by practicing boxing, but he took advantage of the industrial revolution to become a giant of the times. The opened template.

In the end, the original owner was a hopelessly sick and consumptive ghost! I am still a bastard having an affair with a gardener…

Wait, what’s up with the claw?

James Howlett looked at the bone claws protruding from between his fingers, and became more and more worried about his future.

- Description from novelbuddy

How can there be any invincibility?

How can there be any Xeon undefeated?

No one in this world can be eternally number one, anyone can be defeated.

including me.

I’ve been waiting for that one person to show up, beat me, tell me that my way is wrong.

It’s a pity that that person hasn’t come yet.

…

False martial arts: strengthen yourself, break the limits of the human body, and resist bullets with flesh and blood.

Real martial arts: use the magnetic field of life to dominate the magnetic field of the stars, use the small universe of the human body to attract the power of the big universe, travel the starry sky, and smash the planet.

- Description from novelbuddy

Xia Changge is a timid and honest cultivator who has practiced for thirty years without even killing a chicken.

His ordinary life changed after he was killed because his fellow Daoist next door went out to seek opportunities, and begged Xia Changge to help take care of his wife and daughter…

Longevity flow, independent family flow.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”