Flowers Bloom from Battlefield - Chapter 360: The Actual Cause

What is my 1000-year-old monster self to do when I’ve failed my immortal ascension? Time travel — accidentally — and wind up back in my 9-year-old body, needing to re-cultivate, of course. But after that? Get REVENGE! Muahahahaha! But the idiot who killed me — also accidentally — was the main character of the dumb harem Xianxia I transmigrated into. But wait. Wasn’t he only 7 or 8 at this point in time? Well, since I can’t harm a child or the main character without suffering in some way, then I’ll just have to raise him better, faster, stronger, and loyal! Muahahahaha!

“Sect Master Uncle is just a mortal, who just happens to have his own ‘billion’ interpretations of various spells.”Atop Misty Peak, the sect’s senior disciple was educating the new beginners.At that moment, Sect Leader Ye Feng, holding a blade of grass, waved it gently, and a fierce Sword Qi split the sky in two, revealing a dark spatial rift that was difficult to heal, frightening the gods above.The new disciple pointed at the sky, shocked, “And you told me the Sect Leader is just a mortal?”

When the unassuming Du Yunlong encounters Wang Zihan, the eldest daughter of an esteemed immortal family, what kind of tale will unfold between them? The first step into the world of cultivation, hastened by the opening of the initial mystical technique, finally sets Du Yunlong on the elusive path to immortality.From a cold, steel-hearted maiden to a gentle and kind mentor's wife, a lovestruck young girl, a faithful and flawless widow, a serene and virtuous nun, a fateful encounter with a sophisticated lady, and a devoted female sword cultivator—how will each of these remarkable women weave their stories with Du Yunlong?He seeks not to soar through the heavens on a sword, nor to conquer the three realms. To Du Yunlong, love is eternal, and his ultimate path is simply to cherish a lifetime with the one he loves.

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.”