Strongest Scammer: Scamming The World, One Death At A Time - Chapter 218: Having A Proper Meal In A Long Time

Dropped

In a tyrannical world, what is evil? What is benevolence? All living creatures are brutal. Passing through the heaven road to find one’s purpose in life. Struggles to be stronger is not an easy path. The whole journey thistles and thorns, one blade chops open a path, I alone will be supreme!

Memories surged like a tide into her head after she was reincarnated, and she found out who she was… A complete pushover. Her name was Beiting Huang, a direct descendant and third-generation descendant of the Beiting Dynasty. Her fearsome reputation stretched across all nations on the continent. She was a girl, but she was disguised as a boy for some reason. Everyone was also after her wrist… to hack it off and take the bracelet she wore, which was actually a high-level spiritual item that concealed her gender.

Everyone included her own brothers. Her brothers were fighting and killing each other, tearing the dynasty apart in the process… and she happened to be caught in the crossfire.

Mercy? Did the old Beiting Huang not beg before she died? Did they spare her when she did? An emotion that was not hers stirred within her body, and Beiting Huang knew it was the old Beiting Huang’s grief.

In her mind, she assured her: Don’t worry. Since I’ve reincarnated in your body, I shall avenge you. Your death will not be senseless! After those words, the old Beiting Huang’s emotions faded.

Now, there was only one Beiting Huang. She was the underworld’s king, a mercenary lord who slaughtered and plundered with the world at her feet. Reincarnated into the fearsome Beiting family as its ‘useless’ ninth son, the world’s riches were once again in her grasp. She cultivated impossible abilities, contracted with magical beasts, and possessed a mystical dimension. She also trampled over gods and demons as and when she liked. Cold and handsome, her very presence was proud and magnificent, causing the world to fight for her affection.

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.”