Beastmastering: The Best Master Ever! - Chapter 372 - : Evolution of the New Form

Swordmaster Karyl MacGovern.

He returned to the past, wanting to rewrite the future he was unable to change with his sword alone. And this time, he would acquire the power that once eluded him—magic.

This time, he would master both sword and magic, and stand on the peak.

Rural and lost for seventeen years, the illegitimate daughter of the Lu family has returned, and everyone looks down on her, waiting to see her make a fool of herself.However, as soon as Lu Sheng opens her eyes, she pins the rumored ruthless and shady Master Li onto the car with a kiss, boldly declaring, 'Don't worry, I'll take responsibility.'When the gentle girl's disguise falls, everyone realizes that the mysterious jewelry designer, the top disciple of the chief Chinese medicine practitioner, the behind-the-scenes shareholder of a leading group... turn out to be her!Leaders from various fields show up to recognize her, world-class piano master, domestic scientific research leader, genius young hacker, all stand up to say: 'Sheng Bao, we are here to protect you!'Her stepmother and malicious sister weep in regret, her scumbag fiancé bitterly regrets, and her five brothers hurry to make amends, vowing to spoil their sister to the heavens.Yet, Lu Sheng has long been encircled by a certain man, who whispers in a low bewitching voice: 'Sheng Sheng... You enticed me, so now you have to take full responsibility.'

Before dying, the blind beauty Xiangnu accidentally entered an infinite escape world.

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.”