The God of Nothing. - Chapter 49: The Circle Breaks

Mu Zhi’an transmigrated into a world of immortals and became a supporting character destined to be a stepping stone for the protagonist. He originally wanted to befriend those heaven-chosen protagonists, but when Mu Zhi’an turned around, he discovered that the girls surrounding him were either the protagonist’s childhood sweethearts or fiancées.Most inconceivably, those girls who should have liked the protagonist all fell for Mu Zhi’an, this supporting character. Looking at the heavenly beauties beside him, one after another, Mu Zhi’an had a bold idea. He resolved to get rid of the protagonist and turn the tables to become the master himself.After finally defeating several protagonists with great difficulty and obtaining a large amount of resources, in order to enhance the girls’ strength, he shared the abundant resources with the girls around him. He originally thought that with the enjoyment of so many resources, he would surely be able to prove the Dao and become an emperor in the future, transforming and ascending as an immortal. Until one day, looking at the rolling tribulation clouds in the sky and the several empress characters reborn in the lightning tribulation, Mu Zhi’an’s eyes gradually lost their luster as he muttered, “I’m so foolish, really… I thought that after getting rid of those heaven-chosen sons, I would be the new protagonist of the world and become a powerful immortal in the future. But I never thought… it turns out they were the real protagonists all along.”

Sixty Years ago, one middle aged man brought a Qilin that looked like a pug and a mandarin duck that looked exactly like a duck, walking into the Imperial City of the Central Plains for the first time.

Have you been targeted?Maybe, since you’ve been in his range all along.What else can you do but prepare yourself to be killed?

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.”