PREVIEW

... ow how happy I had such a strong confidence in the whirlwind Xiao Li.

In the face of the gathered sight, I didn’t care...

He naturally wouldn't tell everyone that he did this because he cultivated the "Turning the Stars" in another space and deeply understood the great battles of the "Fighting to the Stars" group and the continued consumption.

"Sucking Star Dafa" strengthens the ability of "Turning the Stars"!

Today's whirlwind Xiao Li, etc., if faced with the strengt ...

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Regressor, Reincarnator, Possessor, Traveler, or Predestined. I will hunt down the protagonists that exist in the countless worlds and absorb their abilities.

Here lies the protagonist.

The continent’s hope.
The hero who will save the world.
The hero who currently has a hole through his chest!

With the Spirit of Earth, freed the Dwarfs and gained their trust.
Purified the contaminated Forest of Spirits and became the Fairies’ benefactor.
Resealed the Ancient Stone statues found in one of the ruins.
Exterminated the giant sea serpent that emerged from the sea.
Defeated the 47th Demon Lord of the underworld…

“Aside from assaults and murders there were other death related incidents as well as vandalism, arson, and etc…”

“S-spare me…”

Psh!

This was the protagonist.
But now he has died by my hands.

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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.”