myavr.info Personal Growth Combat Continent Light Novel Pdf

COMBAT CONTINENT LIGHT NOVEL PDF

Saturday, April 27, 2019


Download the Chinese Novel "Douluo Dalu" by Tang Jia San Shao in epub and pdf. Tang San survive in this unknown environment? With a new road to follow, a new legend begins Alternative names: Combat Continent / Lands of Battle / Soul Land Purple God Light. E. Slaughter City. E. Tang San's Third . Douluo Dalu, EPUB and PDF Download. Combat Continent • DD • Lands of Battle • Soul Land • Đấu La Đại Lục • 斗罗大陆 latest chapter. Create Web Novel. Author Topic: [CN][PDF][Eng] Douluo Dalu (Read times) Combat Continent . Re: [Chinese Novel][PDF][English] Douluo Dalu.


Combat Continent Light Novel Pdf

Author:MAXIE SODINI
Language:English, Spanish, Japanese
Country:Turkmenistan
Genre:Fiction & Literature
Pages:452
Published (Last):24.02.2016
ISBN:384-8-24420-355-7
ePub File Size:17.59 MB
PDF File Size:14.70 MB
Distribution:Free* [*Regsitration Required]
Downloads:32145
Uploaded by: JANYCE

Read light novel, web novel, korean novel and chinese novel online for free. Douluo Dalu, EPUB and PDF Download. Combat Continent Arts,Mystery, School Life,Xuanhuan - has alternative names: Combat Continent 2,Dd2,Douluo Dalu. Updates: Douluo Continent – Chapter The continent of Douluo Dalu. Chapter - Purple Demon Eye: Asura Demon Light . The evil demon god spirit beast tang kills in this book, its pearl goes to another world and gives its mc power, heavenly . Pingback: Combat Continent is Completed – Gashacon Gamer. Volume 1 - Douluo Continent – Prologue – Tang Third Young Master close combat mage (if you are free) . if you like this light novel, there is the manga version (myavr.info), but it only goes to chapter 7.

I looked left, right. Up, down. I made a fist inside one glove. Cant use too much strength, I had to remind myself. Overdo it, and my aim would drift low.

No time to check the Doppler. Time to fire and forget. Thak thak thak thak thak! A cloud of dust rose. The enemys rounds seemed to ride the wind over my head, but mine liked to veer off after leaving the barrel, as if the enemy simply willed them away. Our drill sergeant said guns could be funny like that. You ask me, it seems only fair that the enemy should get to hear shells screeching down on them, too.

We should all have our turn feeling Deaths breath on the back of our neck, friend and foe alike. But what would Deaths approach sound like to an inhuman enemy? Did they even feel fear? Our enemiesthe enemies of the United Defense Forceare monsters. Mimics, we call them. My gun was out of bullets. The silhouette of a misshapen orb materialized in the clay-brown haze. It was shorter than a man. It would probably come up to the shoulder of a Jacketed soldier. If a man were a thin pole standing on end, a Mimic would be a stout barrela barrel with four limbs and a tail, at any rate.

Something like the bloated corpse of a drowned frog, we liked to say. To hear the lab rats tell it, they have more in common with starfish, but thats just details. They make for a smaller target than a man, so naturally theyre harder to hit.

Despite their size, they weigh more than we do. If you took one of those oversized casks, the kind Americans use to distill bourbon, and filled it with wet sand youd have it about right. Not the kind of mass a mammal thats 70 percent water could ever hope for.

A single swipe of one of its limbs can send a man flying in a thousand little pieces. Their javelins, projectiles fired from vents in their bodies, have the power of 40mm shells. To fight them, we use machines to make ourselves stronger. We climb into mechanized armor Jacketssciences latest and greatest.

We bundle ourselves into steel porcupine skin so tough a shotgun fired at point blank wouldnt leave a scratch. Thats how we face off against the Mimics, and were still outclassed. Mimics dont inspire the instinctive fear youd expect if you found yourself facing a bear protecting her cubs, or meeting the gaze of a hungry lion.

Mimics dont roar. Theyre not frightening to look at. They dont spread any wings or stand on their hind legs to make themselves look more intimidating. They simply hunt with the relentlessness of machines.

I felt like a deer in the headlights, frozen in the path of an oncoming truck. I couldnt understand how Id gotten myself into the situation I was in. I was out of bullets. So long, Mom. Im gonna die on a fucking battlefield.

On some godforsaken island with no friends, no family, no girlfriend. In pain, in fear, covered in my own shit because of the fear. And I cant even raise the only weapon I have left to fend off the bastard racing toward me. It was like all the fire in me left with my last round of ammo.

The Mimics coming for me. I can hear Death breathing in my ear. His figure looms large in my heads-up display. Now I see him; his body is stained a bloody red. His scythe, a two-meterlong behemoth, is the same vivid shade. Its actually more of a battle axe than a scythe. In a world where friend and foe wear the same dust-colored camouflage, he casts a gunmetal red glow in all directions.

Death rushes forward, swifter than even a Mimic. A crimson leg kicks and I go flying. My armor is crushed. I stop breathing. The sky becomes the ground. My display is drowning in red flashing warnings. I cough up blood, saving the rest of the warnings the trouble. Then my pile driver fires.

The blast throws me at least ten meters into the air. Bits of the armor plating from the back of my Jacket scatter across the ground. I land upside down. Death swings his battle axe. Metal screams as he cuts through the uncuttable. The axe cries out like a freight train screeching to a halt. I see the Mimics carapace sailing through the air. It only took one blow to reduce the Mimic to a motionless heap. Ashen sand poured from the gaping wound.

The two halves of the creature shuddered and twitched, each keeping its own strange rhythm. A creature humanitys greatest technological inventions could barely scratch, laid waste by a barbarian weapon from a thousand years past.

Death turned slowly to face me. Amid the crush of red warning lights crowding my display, a sole green light winked on. An incoming friendly transmission. A womans voice. Impossible to make it out over the noise.

Soul Land I

I couldnt stand. The Jacket was spent and so was I. It took everything I had left just to roll right side up.

Upon closer inspection, I was not, in fact, in the company of the Angel of Death. It was just another soldier in a Jacket. A Jacket not quite like my own, as it was outfitted with that massive battle axe where the regulation pile driver should have been. The insignia on the shoulder didnt read JP but instead U. In place of the usual desert camouflage mix of sand and coffee grounds, the suit shone head-to-toe in metallic crimson. The Full Metal Bitch. Id heard stories.

A war junkie always chasing the action, no matter where it led her. Word had it she and her Special Forces squad from the U. Army had chalked up half of all confirmed Mimic kills ever. Maybe anyone who could see that much fighting and live to tell about it really was the Angel of Death.

Still carrying the battle axe, the blazing red Jacket started toward me. Its hand reached down and fumbled for the jack in my shoulder plate. A contact comm. Theres something Ive been wantin to know. Her voice filled my suit, clear as crystal. A soft, light tone, at odds with the two-meter axe and carnage shed just created with it.

Is it true the green tea they serve in Japan at the end of your meal comes free? The conductive sand spilling out of the fallen Mimic danced away on the wind. I could hear the distant cry of shells as they flew. This was a battlefield, the scorched waste where Yonabaru, Captain Yuge, and the rest of my platoon had died. A forest of steel shells. A place where your suit fills with your own piss and shit.

Where you drag yourself through a mire of blood and muck. Ive gotten myself in trouble for believing everything I read. So I thought Id play it safe, ask a local, she continued. Here I am, half dead, covered in shit, and you want to talk about tea? Who walks up to someone, kicks them to the ground, and then asks about tea? What was going through her fucking head? I wanted to give her a piece of my mind, but the words wouldnt come.

I could think of the words I wanted to say, but my mouth had forgotten how to work a litany of profanities stalled at the gate. Thats the thing with books. Half the time the author doesnt know what the hell hes writing aboutespecially not those war novelists. Now how about you ease your finger off the trigger and take a nice, deep breath. Good advice. It took a minute, but I started to see straight again. The sound of a womans voice always had a way of calming me down.

The pain Id left in battle returned to my gut. My Jacket misread the cramps in my muscles, sending the suit into a mild spasm.

I thought of the dance Yonabarus suit did just before he died. Hurt much? What do you think? My reply wasnt much more than a hoarse whisper. The red Jacket kneeled down in front of me, examining the shredded armor plate over my stomach.

I ventured a question. Hows the battle going? The st has been wiped out. Our main line fell back to the coast to regroup. What about your squad? No use worrying about them. It pierced the front, but the back armor plate stopped it. Its charred bad. How bad? Fuck me. I looked up at the sky. Looks like its starting to clear. I like the sky here.

Whys that? Its clear. Cant beat islands for clear skies. Am I going to die? Yeah, she told me. I felt tears well up in my eyes. I was grateful then that the helmet hid my face from view. It kept my shame a private thing. The red Jacket maneuvered to gently cradle my head. Whats your name? Not your rank or your serial number. Your name. Keiji Kiriya. Im Rita Vrataski. Ill stay with you until you die. She couldnt have said anything Id rather hear, but I wasnt going to let her see that. Youll die too if you stay.

I have a reason. When you die, Keiji, Im going to take your Jackets battery. Thats cold. No need to fight it. Let go. I heard an electronic squelchan incoming comm signal in Ritas helmet. It was a mans voice. The link between our Jackets automatically relayed the voice to me. Calamity Dog, this is Chief Breeder. I read you. All business.

Alpha Server and vicinity under control. Estimate we can hold for thirteen minutes, tops. Time to pick up that pizza. Calamity Dog copies. Running silent from here in. The red Jacket stood, severing our comm link. Behind her an explosion rumbled. I felt the ground tremble through my spine. A laser-guided bomb had fallen from the sky. It plunged deep into the earth, piercing the bedrock before it detonated. The sandy white ground bulged like an overcooked pancake; its surface cracked and sent darker soil the color of maple syrup spewing into the air.

A hail of mud splattered on my armor. Ritas battle axe glinted in the light. The smoke cleared. I could see a writhing mass in the center of the enormous crater left by the explosion: the enemy. Red points of light sprang to life on my radar screen, so many that every point was touching another. I thought I saw Rita nod. She sprang forward, flitting across the battlefield. Her axe rose and fell. Each time it shone, the husk of a Mimic soared. The sand that poured from their wounds spiraled on the whirlwinds traced by her blade.

She cut them down with the ease of a laser cutting butter. Her movements took her in a circle around me, protecting me. Rita and I had undergone the same training, but she was like a juggernaut while I lay on the ground, a stupid toy that had run down its batteries.

No one had forced me to be here. I had dragged myself to this wasteland of a battlefield, and I wasnt doing a damn bit of good for anyone. Better Id gotten plugged alongside Yonabaru. At least then I wouldnt have put another soldier in harms way trying to protect me.

I decided not to die with three rounds left in my pile driver. I lifted a leg. I put a hand on one knee. I stood. I screamed. I forced myself to keep going. The red Jacket turned to me. I heard some noise over my headphones, but I couldnt tell what she was trying to say.

One of the Mimics in the pack stood out from the rest. It wasnt that it looked different from the others. Just another drowned, bloated frog. But there was something about it that set it apart. Maybe proximity to death had sharpened my senses, but somehow I knew that was the one I was meant to fight.

So thats what I did. I leapt at the Mimic and it lashed out at me with its tail. I felt my body lighten. One of my arms had been cut off.

The right arm leaving the pile driver on the left intact. Lucky me. I pulled the trigger. The charge fired, a perfect ninetydegree angle. One more shot. A hole opened in the things carapace. I blacked out. It was a mystery novel about an American detective who is supposed to be some sort of expert on the Orient.

I had my index finger wedged into a scene where all the key players meet for dinner at a Japanese restaurant in New York. The detectives client, an Italian, tries to order an espresso after their meal, but the detective stops him cold. He starts on about how at Japanese restaurants, they bring you green tea after dinner, so you dont have to order anything. Then he veers off on how green tea goes great with soy sauce, and oh, why is it that in India they spice their milk tea?

Hes finally gathered everyone involved in the case in one place, and he talks a blue streak about everything but whodunit. I rubbed my eyes. Passing my hand over my shirt I felt my stomach through the cloth.

I could make out a newly formed six-pack that hadnt been there half a year back. No trace of any wound, no charred flesh. My right arm was right where it should be. Good news all around. What a crappy dream. I must have fallen asleep reading the book. I should have known something was up when Mad Wargarita started striking up small talk about mystery novels. American Special Operators whod crossed the entire Pacific Ocean just for a taste of blood didnt have time to read the latest best seller.

If they had spare time, theyd probably spend it tweaking their Jackets. What a way to start the day. Today was going to be my first real taste of battle. Why couldnt I have dreamed about blasting away a few baddies, getting promoted a grade or two? On the bunk above me a radio with its bass blown out was squawking music some kind of prehistoric rock so ancient my old man wouldnt have recognized it.

I could hear the sounds of the base stirring to life, incoherent chatter coming from every direction, and above it all, the DJs over-caffeinated voice chirping away with the weather forecast. I could feel every word pierce my skull. Clear and sunny out here on the islands, same as yesterday, with a UV warning for the a fte r no o n. Watch out for those sunburns! The barracks werent much more than four sheets of fire-resistant wood propped up together.

A poster of a bronze-skinned bikini babe hung on one of the walls. Someone had replaced her head with a shot of the prime minister torn from the base newspaper.

The bikini babes head grinned vapidly from its new home atop a macho muscle builder on another nearby poster. The muscle builders head was MIA. I stretched in my bunk. The welded aluminum frame squealed in protest.

Keiji, sign this. Yonabaru craned his neck over the side of the top bunk. He looked great for a guy Id just seen get impaled. They say people who die in dreams are supposed to live forever. Jin Yonabaru had joined up three years before me. Three more years of trimming the fat, three more years of packing on muscle. Back when he was a civilian hed been thin as a beanpole. Now he was cut from rock. He was a soldier, and he looked the part. What is it? A confession.

The one I told you about. I signed it yesterday. Thats weird. I could hear him rifling through pages above me. No, not here. Well, sign one for me again, will ya? You trying to pull a fast one on me? Only if you come back in a bodybag.

Besides, you can only die once, so what difference does it make how many copies you sign?

Armaell's Library

UDF soldiers on the front line had a tradition. The day before an operation, theyd sneak into the PX and make off with some liquor. Drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die. The shot they gave you before battle broke down any acetaldehyde left in the bloodstream. But if you were caught, theyd bring you up before a disciplinary committeemaybe a court martial if you screwed the pooch real badafter taking stock of inventory once the fighting was over and everyone was back on base.

Of course, it was hard to court-martial a corpse. Which is why wed all leave notes before the battle explaining how the robbery had been our idea.

Sure enough, when the investigation started, it was always some poor sap whod got himself killed who had masterminded the whole thing. It was a good system.

The people running the PX were wise to the racket, so they made sure to leave out some bottles that wouldnt be missed too much.

Youd think theyd just go ahead and give everyone a few drinks the night before a battlefor morales sake, if nothing elsebut no, it was the same old song and dance every time. Good ideas dont stand a chance against good bureaucracy.

I took the paper from Yonabaru. Funny, I thought Id be more nervous. So soon? Save it for the day, man. What do you mean? We suit up this afternoon. You nuts? How long you plan on wearing that thing? If I dont wear it today, when will I?

How about tomorrow, when we roll out? I nearly fell out of bed. For an instant, my eyes settled on the soldier lying on the bunk next to mine. He was flipping through a porn magazine. Then I stared up into Yonabarus face. What do you mean, tomorrow? They postpone the attack? No, man. Its always been tomorrow. But our secret mission to get hammered starts tonight at nineteen hundred hours. We drink ourselves blind and wake up with a helluva hangover in the morning.

A plan not even HQ could fuck up. Wed broken into the PX last night. I remembered the whole thing. I was nervous about it being my first battle, so Id decided to duck out a bit early. I had come back to my bunk and started reading that mystery novel. I even remembered helping Yonabaru up to his bed when he came staggering in from partying with the ladies. Unlessunless I had dreamed that too? Yonabaru smirked. You dont look so good, Keiji. I picked the novel up off my bed.

Id brought it along to read in my spare time, but Id been so busy drilling formation that it had stayed stuffed in the bottom of my bag. I remember thinking how appropriately ironic it was that I hadnt had any time to start reading it until the day before I was probably going to die.

I opened the book to the last page Id read. The American detective who was supposed to be an expert on the Orient was discussing the finer points of green tea, just like I remembered. If today was the day before the battle, when had I read the book? Nothing was making any sense. Theres nothin to tomorrows operation. I blinked. Nothin to it, huh? Just get yourself home without shooting anyone in the back, and youll be fine.

I grunted in reply. Yonabaru curled his hand into a gun and pointed his index finger at his head. Im serious. Sweat it too much, youll turn into a feedheadend up losing your mind before they even get a chance to blow your brains out. The guy Id replaced had gone a little haywire, so they pulled him from the front lines. They say he started picking up comm feeds about how humanity was doomed.

Not the kind of shit you want heavily armed UDF Jacket jockeys listening to. We might not lose as many to that as we do to the enemy, but its not pretty either way. In battle, unless youre sound of body and mind, youre a liability. Id only just arrived on the front lineshadnt even seen any action and already I was having hallucinations. A land where only the mystical souls of battle lay.

How will Tang San survive in this unknown environment? With a new road to follow, a new legend begins…. The legend of the continent, the battle that brought fame; the Sacred Phoenix Lady, the Windfire Meteor Godrealm saber-art; the pair that ascend and fuse, the golden sun and the blue moon, the fury of the crashing thunder. There is no magic, no battle qi, nor any martial arts in this land.

However, there are martial spirits. Ten thousand years have passed since the founding of the Tang Sect on the Douluo continent, and it has declined. A million-year-old spirit beast, a sacred deathgod that holds the sun, the moon, and the stars in his hands, and a brand new spirit tool system which caused the fall of the Tang sect. One miracle shall occur after another.

The God of Destruction is the head of a faction opposed to Sea Asura God who heads another faction, eventually leading to war. However, it is at this time that the Sea Asura God, wife has become pregnant. What is this crisis?

The Legend of the Divine Realm is set after Peerless Tang Sect and in this story, many familiar characters will appear once again. The Age of Gods has long since ended, their voices no longer heard on the continent of Douluo. Humanity, standing on the shoulders of legends from its history, advanced soul technology to inconceivable heights.

Translating Douluo Dalu by Tang Jia San Shao

The humans of Douluo invented weapons of mass destruction, mechanized armor, and living metals. With these advancements, they went on to conquer the oceans and discovered two new continents. To fuel these new technologies, humanity hunted the soul beasts to the very brink of extinction.

Once the dominant force of Douluo, the few surviving soul beasts now hide in the darkest recesses of their last sanctuary. The weakest have all been hunted, leaving only the strongest to scheme in the heart of the forest.

The soul beasts, not willing to fade away, plot an uprising for their survival. In the midst of this, a god from a long forgotten era awakens in the depths of the Great Star Dou Forest to seek vengeance for the soul beasts.

As darkness encroaches from the abyss, hope is found in a young boy who holds a power beyond divinity within himself—Tang Wulin! Hope for both humanity and the soul beasts, as the bridge between the two. He finds his way into the fabled halls of Shrek Academy, where he learns to wield his prodigious powers, makes friends and finds allies, eventually rising to become a towering leader.

As he learns to harness his strength, danger lurks within the shadows as the various factions of humanity maneuver and plot to usurp Shrek Academy. Tang Wulin discovers the threat to the only world he knows as he sinks deeper into the intrigue. To defend what he loves and reclaim what was lost, Tang Wulin must seek out the legacies of legends past and unlock the full might of the Golden Dragon King!

Douluo Dalu. The continent of Douluo.

Combat continent light novel pdf

Rating 0. Add to Library. Latest Chapters. Web Novel. A work typically depicting fighting, violence, chaos, and fast paced motion. Exploring new places, environments or situations. This is often associated with people on long journeys to places far away encountering amazing things. Anything that involves, but not limited to, magic, dream world, and fairy tales. Martial Arts: As the name suggests, anything martial arts related.

Any of several arts of combat or self-defense, such as aikido, karate, judo, or tae kwon do, kendo, fencing, and so on and so forth. Any love related story. A work intended and primarily written for males. Contains events resulting in great loss and misfortune. As such, as a user of this website you are given the right to restrict the information you give us by either allowing or disallowing the use of non-essential cookies.

Armaell's Library has multiple different types of cookies each for their own purpose outlined below:. When you comment you're required to submit your name username and email. Armaell's Library will write down your name username and email in a cookie. When you return to comment again, those fields will already be pre-filled. This is a non-essential cookie and disallowing them will in disabling the above-mentioned functionality. Users that manage the website will need a cookie containing a unique session identifier when logging into the backend of the website.

When you answer if you allow or disallow non-essential cookies, your choice will be written down in a cookie as to not ask you again. Tang Sect, the most famous martial arts sect of all. By stealing its most secret teachings to fulfill his dreams, Tang San committed an unforgivable crime.

A land where only the mystical souls of battle lay.This is a non-essential cookie and disallowing them will in disabling the above-mentioned functionality.

Aint a question of right or wrong. It was shorter than a man. Anyone can squeeze a trigger. Volume 20 — Slaughter City.

Our daily routines were all filled with that same repetitive shit. I had fired sixteen times, and missed fifteenmaybe sixteen. They said if you stuck him in a centrifuge, hed come out 70 percent big brother, 20 percent ball-busting drill sergeant, and 10 percent steel-reinforced carbon. Mushoko Tensei Jobless reincarnation. Ritas Jacket was as red as the rising sun.

RAFAELA from Michigan
See my other articles. I enjoy yoyo. I relish reading novels unexpectedly .