Having children earns benefit, start competing for dominance in the world by marrying a wife - Chapter 1212 - 902 The Shocked Empress Tianhong

Tu Xiao'an dies due to an accident and he is luckily reborn as a snake with a system. As long as he gobbles down some preys, he could speed up his course of evolution and gain more power to protect his family.'Mom, Sis, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry for making you grieve!''One day, I'll stand before you again, out in the open, and take care of you!'

Sagiri was born in silence, no cry, no breath, no heartbeat, until a pulse of ancient energy tore through the air and marked him as the last child of a dead people. Cold, disciplined, and frighteningly calm for his age, Sagiri has spent his life hiding a power even he doesn’t fully understand. He does not smile. He does not fear. He does not allow anyone close. Because the thing living inside him 'The Echo' never sleeps.

“Legend had it that in the deepest part of the oldest galaxy, there was a door as red as blood and fire.

Legends and myths, darkness and light, countless stories passed through this old door.

The Door of Constellation that overlooked everything would warn the sky and earth, sending darkness back to where it belonged.”

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.”