Red Storm - Chapter 162

The beauty and the taboo existing together.Unattainable and unacceptable.An existence only to be admired from afar.A hero of legends but a also a girl of tragedy.Shining like a star in the sky, all alone, forever…-But that’s too sad isn’t it?Our MC, an ordinary middle aged man, is an author that wrote books and after pouring 2 years of hard work in a book, his hardwork finally bore fruit as his book got the second prize in the regional awards.A fruit that he couldn't eat.Why?Because he along with hard work, he also poured his piss somewhere he shouldn't and died.Exactly how?Read the prologue, and you will find out~But of course, that's only the start, as the next time he woke up...He was in another world.

Amidst a world plunged into chaos, where rituals have collapsed and music has spoiled, and the universe is muddled, Gu Qingfeng finds himself transported to this tumultuous era.Initially, he only desired to live out his remaining years in peace. However, the birth of his first son made him realize that things were not as simple as he had imagined...

In this post-apocalyptic world filled with beasts, humans must join together with their newly acquired classes to battle them. However, beasts aren't the only thing threatening the peace as class users similar to those around Kaden make moves in the shadows. Join Kaden in his adventure as a class user uncovering the dark secrets of those around him whether he wants to or not and paving his way through this treacherous world.

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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.”