A Thought Through Eternity - Chapter 145 - You Must Be Killed!

The course of commitments never did run smooth.

Zou Yue jumped to the side, dodging an extended claw of a growling zombie.

A pair of warm hands gripped his small waist from behind and pulled him over to a sturdy chest. The same pair of hands slowly groped his chest.

“Brother fan w—what are you doing?!” Zou carefully looked up at him.

Fan Xui smirked mysteriously at him and removed the huge shades stylishly. A clear pair of eyes met Zou’s challengingly. “since I saved you just now, why don’t you give me a kiss?”

“you… you can see!!! Aren’t you blind!!!” Zou Yue glanced in shock. He pushed himself for of his body.

Fan Xui laughed out loud, gently caressing Zou’s long black hair. “are you gonna leave me now?,” he continued groping his barely their chest through his girly tank top.

“Fuck yeah!! Let go you poser.” he pushed him away and started shooting the zombies outside with renewed passion. Fan suddenly caught his wrist. “You bastard, what are you doing, let go of my hand. The zombies are coming!!!”

“Hmm okay,” Fan Xui let go. He swiftly snapped a fluffy handcuff snugly on his wrist, tying them both together. “Now we are tied together for live and death,”

“FAN. XUI!! Get this off of me!” Zou growled at him, but the young man just laughed happily.

“Sigh, you are beautiful even when you are angry, dear,” Fan Xui whispered and pulled him up for a passionate kiss. He gently bit those soft lips and moaned. “Delicious,”

Letting go, he slowly waved his hand towards the upcoming zombies and they are reduced to ashes.

When I woke up, I had been reborn as a baby. My mother passed away and I was neglected by my father. Even though I was born in a Marquis family, my life started on a HARD MODE. But I won’t be discouraged. I will eat well, sleep well, move much, get whatever I can get and live happily.

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.”