Hunter of Immortals - Chapter 405: The Angels Weakness

After finding himself a poor man in a world of Cultivation, Magic, and infinite possibilities, William has to do everything in his power to survive. But with the knowledge of modern books, movies, and a System granting the ability to upgrade his talents, William is prepared for anything! Or...is he?Follow William, his Potential System, and his chaotic character as he improves his strength from Peasant to Primordial Being!Don't worry, he won't cause too much chaos...right?

“If someone has to become the strongest, why can't it be me?”

An unfortunate young man, brought to another world by a meteor, voices his unwillingness with a defiant roar.

I just want to create a fantastical world that doesn't seem too unreal.

Pre-reading Reminder 1: If you think human nature can simply be divided into good or bad, proceed with caution.

Pre-reading Reminder 2: If you believe a sect is just a crowd of people flattering the protagonist, proceed with caution.

Pre-reading Reminder 3: If you think the whole world is a stage for the protagonist to show off, and all people are merely stepping stones for the protagonist, proceed with caution.

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Earth's youth, Chen Jichuan, tragically dies in a car accident and is transmigrated into an Immortal Hero world, obtaining the Supreme Skill: [Dao Fruit].Everything starts from ‘Dao Fruit’...

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.”