Is that a Wisp? - Chapter 1034: Time to Leave

I have experienced all the eight sufferings of this world.

I do not ask for nirvana, but for you.

Wild and hard-to-tame demon (gong) x cold, ascetic and childish immortal (shou)

- Description from Novelupdates

“The war is finally over?! Then, what am I going to do with my life?” Caedrel, a man who had spent his entire life fighting, had no idea what to do next. Fortunately, he was offered to become a teacher in the greatest academy in the world. However, he wouldn’t be a normal teacher but a spy for his country’s Emperor! Doesn’t sound too bad, right? Well, it would have been great, that is…until he learned that his class was for the most talented(weird) students in the entire world.

As the newly appointed 12th Fatui Harbringer of Snezhnaya, with the nickname of the [Ausbilder], or The [Instructor], Bai Luo feels a little uneasy.This is because the Cryo Archon has given him a task: to go to Inazuma as the Snezhnaya Envoy.As a world traveler, he knows full well the consequences of going to Inazuma—he will definitely be targeted by Raiden Shogun.However, if he doesn't go, the Cryo Archon will also target him.So he chooses to employ a traditional technique that everyone tend to use from time to time in his previous world.Slacking off.

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.”