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... ut this time the sound is different from the past, very noisy, very vast. In addition to the whistling wind, there is also the sound of the streetside store’s signature squeaking sounds. There is a coffee house’s shed screaming and screaming, and there are shattered sounds on the skyscraper’s crumbling glass windows. The sound of the plastic bag shredded paper fluttering in the air... The other four senses are shielded and all gathered on the ear force, so he can easily distinguish that there is ...

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He, without doubt hates her.
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She – a glutton without troubles or worries who crossed over and became a young fat chick with a deep vengefulness.

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As Yun Xiao's soul soared into the heavens after his death, he made a startling discovery—the vast world in which he had lived for sixteen years astonishingly resembled a colossal tomb! Beneath it lay an ancient bronze coffin, vast as the boundless seas, radiating an overwhelming miasma. Every piece of land was but a handful of dirt atop this enormous coffin. The billions of living souls unknowingly thrived and multiplied within this graveyard soil.

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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.”