The Cold Prince Dotes On His Wild Wife - Chapter 155

A black pearl brought Jiang Feng from a doomsday stage where top masters with one emperor, two emperors, three emperors, four deities, and seven peerless cities show off their glory to parallel time and space, and this time and space-the end of the world has not yet opened! !! Under the sky, the youth look up, if I have strength, can I get through … these two time and space! !!

- Description from 69shu

Lin An's life underwent a drastic change.The basketball under his bed had turned into a bleeding head, which would hop next to his pillow and hum softly by his ear at midnight. The subway racing into the station had become a gigantic lizard, opening its gaping maw, waiting for him to line up and feed it.The world was not as simple as he had imagined. Behind the bustle of the city, the Witch Hunter Knights roamed in search of evil wizards to slay.The ordinary worker, Lin An, inadvertently became a member of the Antler Witch-Hunting Knight Order, shouldering the glorious mission to protect humanity.He must be careful, careful, and then even more careful.Careful not to reveal his true identity as a wizard.…“Why Hunt a Cowardly Innocent Wizard?!”

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.”