Martial Cultivator - Chapter 651.1: Someone Came From Afar, Someone Is Leaving for Somewhere Far Away - Part 1

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Chu Ping: “This system is too awesome!”

Lingyun, a fierce and savage cultivation genius takes over a dead teenager’s body. Coincidentally, they are both named Lingyun. Set in a alternate version of the 21st century, teenager Lingyun has been killed by someone with a grudge.

What will happen if your ordinary life becomes not so ordinary? What will happen if your old existence becomes anew? What will happen if the world that you know is changing?

Our heroine, Anne, is a 40 year old librarian, that got entangled in mythical magic, inside a mysterious fairytale book. When the disaster happened, she got thrown into another world, the kingdom of Valorian, where magic and lore are coming alive. A world where she becomes younger again, but with a wisdom and knowledge of a forty-year-old woman.

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.”