Trash of the Count's Family - Chapter 234Book 2: : Symbol of Victory (6)

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?!”

The Prea gods, who saved humanity from living as slaves to other races and established the human empire, passed down their bloodline. Those who inherited their blood were born with magical talent and could become wizards. After thousands of years, the empire fell, and the world became ruled by great masters across different regions.He was a young man who grew up with his mother, never knowing who his father was. Though he possessed tremendous magical abilities, he lived as a shepherd in a rural village. Now he ventures out into the world to discover the secrets of his bloodline.

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.”

I transmigrated into the gacha game I abandoned for 10 years.But, the state of the heroes I raised is strange.