Skyfire Avenue - Chapter 880: Some Silence

Nikola Tesla, the genius, a man who lost everything to balant capitalism and betrayal, awakens to find himself reborn as an orphan. What is this world? Why is he here? And will he once again fall for the capitalistic betrayal or pave his own way? What would happen if his genius adapts to cunningness of the society?

The young Xiao Yi bore a mysterious seal within him, yet due to his father and siblings’ injustice, he was sent to the remote Nanhuang and became a son-in-law to the Fang Family. On his wedding day, the seal inside Xiao Yi was unlocked, and from then on, he controlled the Eternal Celestial Tomb! Many of the strongest beings from all the heavens and worlds were buried within the Celestial Tomb, and Xiao Yi, who now commanded the tomb, began his life’s journey of gaining strength through grave-robbing! “You think you’re a martial arts genius? Let me dig up a Martial God’s grave and we’ll see!”“You consider yourself an alchemy expert? I’ll dig up a Medicine Saint’s grave and then we’ll talk!”“You’re the son of a divine emperor? I’ve got plenty of divine emperor graves here!”“You’re the number one scoundrel in the world? ... You win, I’m out!”

A seemingly ordinary training exercise led Chen Jian and his squad into a completely different time and space.In the post-apocalyptic world, monsters run rampant, and the surviving humans struggle to live under their terrifying claws.To fight the monsters, the living have abandoned everything.Human nature no longer exists; beastliness is the mainstream.To defeat them, one must first become them.-----------------Chen Jian was supposed to be like the others here, pursuing the maddening evolution.But, when the tungsten-core armor-piercing round first penetrated the Kui Niu's keratin armor, he suddenly discovered...Perhaps there is another way to stay alive?

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.”