Super Gene Ⅱ: Evolution - Chapter 1199 Star Constellation Camp

Name: [Art Tavel (Zhuang Zhou)]

Occupation: [Demon Warlock]

Class: [1]

Bloodline: [Abyss (0.03%), Human (94.97%), Darkness (5%)]

The descendants of the Tavel family, the bloodline of demon warlocks that had declined, had another “dark” bloodline after the arrival of Zhuang Zhou.

With this bloodline, he can summon monsters from the dark world.

The first thing he thought of was not to drive the summons to help fight, but to wonder if the equipment of the dark world would explode after the summons died?

- Description from novelbuddy

I was the reason my idol cancelled her stream…?

Ye Feng had mutated, his body can obtain the corresponding superpower according to the information he heard!

His deskmate, Wang Qiang: “If only I had an expert hacker as a friend, that’ll be great!”

Computer amateur Ye Feng immediately turned into an expert hacker. Anywhere with the Internet was his territory!

Wang Qiang: “Brother Feng, do you want to learn martial arts?”

The moment he said that, Ye Feng had a burst of strength and became a martial arts grandmaster! Girlfriend: “Ye Feng, do you know how to drive?”

Ye Feng was about to say ‘no’ but in the end, countless pieces of information flooded his mind and he immediately became a veteran driver! …

“Please stop talking, everyone!”

In less than a year, Ye Feng was omnipotent. He had a look of distress, feeling like he’s not even a human being but an omnipotent almighty expert!

This book is also called “Am I really a human being”, “I really don’t want to be omnipotent” and “Why is it so hard to not be an expert ah”…

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.”