MTL - Exile - ~ Chapter 73

Wu Yuan, a celebrated Grandmaster in his past life, transmigrates to a world where martial arts reign supreme. Armed with his previous cultivation experience and a fresh start in a fourteen-year-old body, the prime age of physical development, he's ready to redo his martial arts cultivation from scratch and perfect it this time. But this isn't just any world; it's a place where the human genome pushes the boundaries of imagination, and that's a challenge he can't resist.

Unfortunately, Wu Yuan's initial plans for peaceful cultivation are shattered by the harsh reality of a relentless, ruthless world. Assassination attempts and conspiracies hound him, compelling him to lay low. With unwavering determination, he embarks on a thrilling journey, knowing the only true path to safety for both him and his family lies at the pinnacle of power. And he is resolved to ascend to the peak, no matter what it takes.

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The world ended, and from its ashes, a new society rose. One where strength was law, and the weak were nothing more than dust beneath the feet of the powerful.Malakai Von Sanguine was meant to be great, a direct descendant of one of the grand families of the dome, the Sanguine Clan. But at seven, he lost everything: his parents, his future, and his ability to evolve. Branded as worthless, his life became a living hell, forced to survive in a world where the unevolved were walking corpses.But fate wasn’t done with him yet.One fateful encounter changed everything.He evolved.What he acquired was something far beyond the limits of his clan, something most wouldn’t believe possible. A power that defied the very laws that governed their new society.Now, there is only one goal: revenge.The people who took everything from him… he will hunt them to the ends of the earth. He will burn their names from history and carve his vengeance into their very bones.No mercy. No forgiveness. No escape.They will die screaming.Or he will die trying.

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”

The year 1847