To Hell With Being a Hero! - Chapter 520. Farewell Festival (2)

This is the story of a person who transmigrated into a world with a radically different worldview.

For decades, the brave warriors of the Northern Army fought to keep the world safe from the evil Silent Night. But when the fourth-generation leader, Jin Kwan-Ho is accused of colluding with the enemy, he is forced to disband the sect and commit suicide to protect his son, Jin Mu-Won. With no family and allies left, Mu-Won leads a dreary life under close surveillance… until a surprise attack from the Silent Night gives him a chance to escape to the mountains.

There, the young warrior trains to master the fighting techniques of his predecessors, before the mysterious disappearance of a loved one brings him back to the mainland. Follow Jin Mu-Won as he embarks on a journey to avenge his father’s death and take down the villains who threaten to plunge the world into darkness!

He Bai won the lottery, became rich, and reached the pinnacle of life. Then, he inadvertently took a picture of the Film Emperor Di Qiuhe being killed. And after reporting this case to the police, he was reborn in a midst of confusion.

He Bai: I don’t have any horrible relatives to abuse. Why was I reborn?

Di Qiuhe: But I do.

He Bai: I also haven’t been betrayed or harmed by anyone. Why was I reborn?

Di Qiuhe: But I have.

He Bai: I just want to have some money to live freely and eat well. I already achieved that goal, so why was I reborn?

Di Qiuhe: I have money, but don’t live freely or well.

He Bai angrily flips the table: So what’s the use of my rebirth! Just to make me suffer again?!

Di Qiuhe (Holding and Touching He Bai): Be my lover, you’re only responsible for eating “lollipops,” you won’t eat any bitterness.

He Bai: Leave!

Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

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