God-level Hero - Chapter 1199 - 1113: Gravely Wounded by the Blood Demon King

Corpse: “Excuse me, are you polite?” ————– The writer of《Great Doctor Ling Ran》, Village of Ambitious Birds, The best medical novel author, New masterpiece! Classic books that you absolutely cannot miss!!!

These days, could one really time-travel just by dreaming? And to become a silly princess at that. Well, marrying a domineering man wasn't too bad. His taking a concubine wasn't the end of the world either. But why was she forbidden from liking anything except him? That was just too domineering! She had to escape! Ah, but upon escaping, she realized he was a half-demon who didn't understand love... and, moreover, a half-demon who had a three-lives connection with her...

Once all people received Souls and incredible powers. Some were lucky enough to obtain the Soul of an ancient and powerful creature, but fate was not favorable to all.

The world began to change, and creatures evolved. But, it was not the beginning of a new era. It was the end. A couple of months later, a dark mist appeared and destroyed the world. It was a dictate of destiny from which no one could escape.

Wain Norheim was the world's best assassin and the only one who didn't get a soul. However, he was destined to gain the power to confront fate.

Escaping through a portal into another world, he unknowingly began the apocalypse. Even the world failed to expel him.

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.”