Bleach : I Need To Rizz To Become Stronger ?! - Chapter 31: Hinamori Makes a Move

An entomologist’s soul transmigrates into a cultivation world, inhabiting the body of a small, obscure cultivator who specializes in insect manipulation. Reborn, he desires only to avoid conflict and quietly develop in a mortal village.Inspired by the “Sun-Moon Heart Sutra,” he creates his own “Ten Absolute Scripture.” Inspired by the “Nine Deaths Divine Art,” he devises the “Purgatory True Demon Technique.” Moved by the “Eternal Life Sutra.” he extrapolates it into a hundred layers.With boundless creativity, extraordinary insight, and unlimited time, he pioneers new techniques, pill formulas, artifact designs, array formations, gu recipes, poison concoctions, and brewing methods—all entirely of his own invention.While others cultivate paths of slaughter, he alone forges and cultivates the path of self creation.

After the battle, the beautiful senior sister shyly raised her face in front of you and slowly closed her eyes. At this time, you…

Eh? The choice this time was too simple. Of course, it was four.

Where there is light there shall be darkness

Hero? Nahh I'm the demon.

In a world where the demons are looked on as the incarnation of evil, the human-demon war raged on across the whole continent.

The Seraphims, protector of humanity, and the Demon lords who rule across all demonkind. Amidst all the chaos, Simon was reincarnated as the lowest ranking demon noble.

A brutal world where the strong feeds on the weak, eat or be eaten, kill or be killed. A demon far off from humanity….a dream unfulfilled in his previous life will be achieved in this life. Taking on the moniker of Laplace, he destroys all his enemies and rise over them.

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.”