Destroyer of Ice and Fire - Chapter 22: A teacher’s ardent shout

The fiancée has betrayed, but how could she know that the man she looked down upon was in fact a prodigy with healing and martial prowess!

In this world, Planet Earth had undergone great changes and humanity is faced with extreme danger. Luckily, humans have something called the Heaven Dao software.

Su Han is a transmigrator, and this is not the first time he has transmigrated.

For the first time, I traveled to the digital world, and after clearing the level, I came to the world of the resurrection of the elves.

And awakened digital templates.

In short, it is to find spirits with the same nature as Digimon, and cultivate and evolve Digimon.

And the goblin gym, which happened to be facing the old mother, was going to go bankrupt.

Su Han directly took it down, who said that men can’t open a fairy gym?

Miao Miao — Super Miao Miao — Dilu Beast — Heavenly Girl Beast — Venus Beast!

Lily Root Doll – Balu Beast – Miss Skirt – Flower Fairy Beast – Rose Beast

“Su Han, it’s not bad! You know that the old mother is waiting to hold her grandson, and even has a girlfriend?”

“This girlfriend is not bad, tall and slender! Why is she blindfolded?” Mom.

“?????” Su Han.

…

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”