My Cherry Will Explode in the Apocalypse - Chapter 10

“He who bears the light of heaven and the rage of hell shall decide the fate of gods and beasts alike.”When the world shattered and stars fell from the heavens in blinding storms, a child was born—cursed with the power to either end the eternal war or bridge the gap between heaven and hell.Now, hunted by gods and worshiped by shadows, he must choose which side of his soul will burn brighter - light of heaven or fury of hell.

Xiang Yi was most famous vase in the entertainment industry. The subject of ridicule on the world wide web, she suddenly announced: She was going home to farm. Her anti-fans: Hehe. She deserves it. The next day, Xing Chen APP started a live broadcast stream of Xiang Yi's rural life. Heh? Why did a top ranking lawyer stop by for dinner? Heh? Why did a doctor come to raise chickens? Heh? Why is a famous fashion designer here to dye cloths? And why is an esports legend installing a swing set? What, you're her brother? You're also her brother?? As the much anticipated grand slam actor Shi Sui made his grand descent into the scene, the anti-fans began to tremble as they weakly typed out on the screen: You... Are you also her brother? The film star calmly squeezed Xiang Yi's cheeks and says indifferently: I am her husband. The anti-fans: Unabletolaugh.jpg

After seeking pleasure in the nightclub and a night of romance, he discovered there’s a seed in his stomach;

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.”