Second Try Idol - Chapter 124: The Singer in the Memories (9)

After an unexpected accident, An Luo was reborn as the young master of a business family. Even as his grandfather’s favored grandson, he seems to only be a cannon fodder in the brothers’ struggle to seize power. However, the most frightening thing is… the strange emotions that flicker in his little brother’s eyes as he looks at him. At that moment, overwhelmed by his brother, An Luo angrily thought: Could it be that he is doomed to never escape this vicious cycle of “brotherly love”?

An Luo(frowning): After rebirth, I don’t want to be together with some strange person.

Someone(suddenly appearing in the back, smiling): What did older brother just say?

An Luo: …Nothing.

- Description from Novelupdates

Lin Xiao was an orphan who strived to get stronger while living with his sickly younger brother in an unnamed small village.

Betrayed. Exiled. Murdered. Reborn.In the war-torn land of Glory, power is everything and Duke Merlin's bastard son has none. Cast out to a starving border town beside the cursed Devil Forest, Kaelor and his mother were meant to die quietly.But when assassins take her life and leave him bleeding in the mud, another soul awakens within him one from another world.And with it, something else awakens too...The Fusion System.A power that lets him fuse nearly anything.Fusing one starving soldier with a dead direwolf gave birth to a Dreadwolf Trooper.Fusing one hundred wild dogs produced the monstrous Cerberus.Fusing two crumbling forts created a living fortress bristling with autonomous ballistas.From broken men and dead beasts, Kael will forge an army the world cannot understand and a dominion no one will dare challenge.

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.”