Black Bellied Belle: Demon Lord, Bite The Bait Please - Chapter 1.2

The young Pang Jian was forced to ascend to the heavens.……ps: This is Ni Cangtian's new work after “God Of Slaughter” and “Spirit Realm”.

Objects from beyond the Earth have fallen; eyes of crimson see through the cosmos.All the stars in the sky are enemies of humanity.They call me a false god, but only I fly above.The world is sick, gravely so.I will heal it.

Li Fenglan, the number one person in the world of cultivation and an immortalization stage immortal, fell into qi deviation. He was spurned by thousands of people for doing evil things, split the Underworld River with a single sword, and had the whole cultivation world unify to beat him until his soul scattered. Only after his death did he realize that he was the villain in the novel.

Li Fenglan: This immortal has a swear word he doesn’t know…..

He never thought that a thousand years later, Li Fenglan would be revived inexplicably, and become a disfigured cannon fodder with all his spiritual roots crippled.

Then he discovered that something was wrong with the plot—

The Soul Condensation Tower in the forbidden area of ​​the Immortal Gate was established for him;

His Master who has resided in the upper realms for a long time, stands guard at his tomb in the lower realms

The main character who once used one sword to shake his heart spirit unexpectedly stole his corpse;

The distinguished reckless music cultivator good friend changed to cultivate the ruthless dao just to guard a trace of a remnant soul;

The Demon Master who was both good and evil was at odds with the cultivation world;

The unruly disciple used dead branches as hairpins, and from then on he only thought of one person.

It turned out that the whole cultivation world wanted to revive him.

Li Fenglan: I’ve received your kind regards, now you can get lost. Smile.jpg

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”