Heaven and Hellfire Compiled - Chapter Sixteen: The Plans of Baltoth

I am the most talented guardian of this era!

But no one knows, I still have a second template, the knife cuts the flesh, the intention cuts the soul!

You may have seen the meatless juggernaut, but you have never seen a full-time meat shield with an explosive attack!

- Description from novelbuddy

Xie Yang has spent many years in the apocalypse and is tired and worn out. Then he transmigrated into a simple and superficial novel about the entertainment circle.

The protagonist of the novel was handsome, smart and reborn. The female protagonist of the novel was beautiful, inspirational and had a golden finger. Some male and female roles were also beautiful and had a deep background. If he casually transmigrated into one of them then he could close his eyes and enjoy himself. However, he didn’t transmigrate into any of them and instead became the hidden husband of the biggest villain in the novel, the male protagonist’s uncle.

He was called a husband but it was more similar to a babysitter. This was because the biggest villain in the novel was a terminally ill patient with a terrible personality and a sick brain (really sick). They got married for the sake of happiness.

Xie Yang: It doesn’t matter if you are the male lead, the female lead or the villain, whoever dares to stop me from living a comfortable life will die.

Yao Mo Xin, the empress of Da Chu died in a cruel way a day after she gave birth at the hands of her husband the emperor, Ye Hong Yi, and her legitimate second sister, Yao Shu Ran. Ye Hong Yi got the throne because of the smartness of Yao Mo Xin, but he hated her because she made him feel like a useless person who needed a woman to become the emperor.

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.”