MTL - I Have a Bunch of Relatives Who Want To Be Hokage - Chapter 224

Miracles don’t come walking your way by themselves.

Under the vast immortal sky, the brilliance of an era is nothing but fireworks blooming at the fingertips.

Overlooking the earth, for thousands of years, life and death, where are they all? The Immortal Gate, the Dynasty, and the Supreme Holy Land are all just a handful of loess under the Immortal Vault.

A thousand years of splendor, and a smash into ashes.

Cinders sprout in the depths of the ruins, and you and I strive to be the trees that reach the sky.

What the hell is on the other side of the Immortal Firmament?

- Description from novelbuddy

Zhao Rong boasts super medical and martial skills, yet he keeps a low profile as an ordinary college student. When he gets his first part-time job, which requires him to pursue a school beauty whose boyfriend is a killer, Zhao knows his peaceful life ends.

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.”