MTL - Hunter: I’m Really Not a Mind Remover - Chapter 207 I'll never get hit again

One day, Fang Jueyu was called into the study by his parents.Fang Father: “Son, you've turned 20 this year, and it's time to tell you some things!”Fang Jueyu: “What is it? You're not going to suddenly tell me you're a wealthy man, are you?”Fang Father is surprised: “You already know?”Fang Jueyu: “What? Really? I was just saying that.”Fang Father: “However, that's not the point. Today, I am going to pass on our family's heirloom that has been handed down from generation to generation to you!”From then on, Fang Jueyu's life underwent a dramatic change.What? You want to talk to me about antiques and calligraphy paintings? Do you want Wang Xizhi's calligraphy or Zheng Banqiao's paintings? Oh, right, Van Gogh even gifted my great-great-great-grandfather a painting!Why, you ask? Because it was my ancestors who funded their education!You want to talk to me about sports cars? Are you talking about Lamborghini, Ferrari, or the Bugatti Veyron? I hold shares in those companies, and I'm even the largest shareholder!What? Your family owns a mine? Sorry, but many of the gold and diamond mines in Africa are ours too!

And so Arascus, God of Pride, waited. He waited for his defeat as the forces of Heaven & Hell combined descended upon him. He waited as they tried to kill him. He waited as they locked him away. He waited for a thousand years in that dark prison.

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.”

Sixty years after the global catastrophe, the Little Freeze Period ended, and the governments of the living regions began to collect land in the anarchic areas to be planned on a large scale, reorganized resources, and entered the recovery stage in an all-round way. These two decades are also called “golden Twenty years”.

This is a bright era in which new regions are rising one after another, politics is set up, capital is acting, careerists are everywhere, heroes are powerful, villains and grassroots are rising together! A young man rises up in troubled times with a full stomach of strategy, hides a tiger in his chest, and measures the world.

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