EX rank supporting role’s replay in a prestigious school - Chapter 1087: Two people (12)

Disclaimer: don’t own Minecraft or Percy Jackson

Eight hundred years ago, Xie Lian was the Crown Prince of the Xian Le kingdom. He was beloved by his citizens and was considered the darling of the world. He ascended to the Heavens at a young age; however, due to unfortunate circumstances, was quickly banished back to the mortal realm. Years later, he ascends again–only to be banished again a few minutes after his ascension.

Now, eight hundred years later, Xie Lian ascends to the Heavens for the third time as the laughing stock among all three realms. On his first task as a god thrice ascended, he meets a mysterious demon who rules the ghosts and terrifies the Heavens, yet, unbeknownst to Xie Lian, this demon king has been paying attention to him for a very, very long time.

- Description from Novelupdates

In the Great Chu Kingdom, evil spirits are everywhere.

In this world, there are warriors, Taoists and Buddhas, monsters, and weirdness.

Xu Bai came across time, the hell started, and he was in the cell of a bandit village.

When the danger came, he found that his understanding was not quite right.

[Observe the nameless knife marks on the wall, and comprehend the bone-breaking knife technique. 】

【Observe the forging book, comprehend the forging method】

[Observe the hexagram scriptures and comprehend fortune-telling. 】

When entering the bandit village, Xu Bai tied the chain with his hands, and when leaving the bandit village, Xu Bai carried the ghost knife.

“In this world, there are many things that can be seen. I just know how to observe better than you.” Xu Bai laughed.

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”