I Fabricated the Techniques, but my disciple really mastered them? - Chapter 837 - 437 Hunting the Outer Heavenly Spirit, Taikun Jiang Clan_2

Branded as the last remnants of evil.Once known as Cero Restes, now living under the name Gabby Magus walked into villain’s path. He swore to hunt every hero’s affiliated with the Dukedom of South in the kingdom of La Magia.Through a web of lies, manipulation, and ruthless strategy, he will rise—not as a savior, but as the villain hidden within the hero’s party.

She never dreamed that she would meet him in the bathroom and they...Five years ago, she betrayed him for some reason and chose someone else, which deeply hurt him and he swore to make her pay the price. After the reunion, he launched a fierce attack on her, while she tried to escape this emotional entanglement.However, the red line of fate seems to have already tightly connected the two. Through repeated interactions and confrontations, they gradually uncovered their past misunderstandings and got to know each other again. His deep affection for her remained, and she was gradually moved by his sincerity.

When the last prodigy level esper on Earth disappeared, Earth was in deep trouble of becoming another species’ colony. The ordinary Han, with his intelligence and hardworking character, was able to make a fortune after “accidentally” stepping into the world of dark net, later purchasing an esper power crystal that brought him the ultimate power that changed the fate of the universe.

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.”