Villain Retirement - Chapter 1075 - : The Return of the Parents

With a square halberd in the palm, and a red rabbit and horse under him, nowhere can the world go!

- Description from novelbuddy

In my previous life, I was merely a supporting character, highlighting Damon’s deep love for another woman.Tragically, my story unfolded with devastating consequences, leaving my family in ruins and my life shattered.Upon my rebirth, I chose to adopt a carefree attitude, ignoring the situation and waiting for Damon to ask for a divorce. But something peculiar happened. The man who used to disappear for weeks suddenly started showing up every few days.“Do you think there will come a time when you’ll want me to disappear?” I queried.“Do not indulge in fantasies.” he retorted,“We’ll continue to torment each other until the end.” I sighed, as a reincarnated soul, confident that his destined soulmate would soon cross his path.Finally, he encountered her, and I believed freedom was within my grasp. Yet, he quietly…

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.”

The handsome, skilled newbie livestreamer, Ji Zhiyao, has a dream.