MTL - Mister Li, the Heart Bandit - Chapter 75 Good, remember to cut the carotid artery next time

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️THIS NOVEL PARTICIPATED IN WSA 2025!---Nero Vaelheim. A name etched in history as that of a fleeting antagonist, a mere stepping stone for the heroes.But what if the pawn refused to be sacrificed?When a devoted reader is reborn in the body of this doomed villain, he has only one goal: to break the script, rewrite his fate… and bend this world to his own rules.After all, why settle for being an obstacle when you can become the ultimate threat?

The God of Magic stopped blessing his believers.

The Tower of Magic, where the mages gathered and worshiped him was destroyed.

Magic Fell.

The surviving Mages were looked down upon by the rest of the world.

Normal Mages, that is.

The Mages from the Strongest Magic Family, the Vesta Family, were an exception.

For 5000 years, the Vesta Family continued to produce exceptional Mages that were strong enough to resist other forces which came after their family heritage and treasures even without the Blessing of the God of Magic.

Now, however, the Vesta Family found themselves in a difficult situation where they didn’t have a single capable heir.

That was until, Christopher Davis, an underworld Gang Leader, transmigrates into the body of Vaan Astra Vesta, a well-known pushover and the ‘waste’ of the Vesta Family.

Christopher, now Vaan, soon realized that he could see otherworldly magic spirits with knowledge so vast that the Magic books that the Vesta Family treasured for 5000 years were nothing in comparison.

That, combined with Vaan’s own God-like Talent,

The ‘Hope’ was born.

A prodigy strong enough to not only protect the Vesta Family and its treasures,

A prodigy who will restore Magic to its former glory was born.

“Haa!? Who da fuck said a Mage can’t use fists!? That crab-like face of yours, I’ll punch it till it is deformed into something better looking!”

And of course, Christopher’s gangster-like tendencies won’t just disappear.

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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.”