Blue Phoenix - Chapter 736: Enlightened

Shen Yu's world is facing the apocalypse. With the help of his Gray Mist Space, he could do good things such as saving lives to gain more gray mist and use it to do everything he wants to do. And what's more, no one but him can survive in the Space. However, this time, two figures walk out of the Space, and when they spin around, Shen Yu is shocked, because the two figures are all him from different worlds.“Your world is facing an apocalypse too?”“Indeed.”

"I want to run away from everything."

Fuck me.I was just trying to pull my favorite character from a gacha game — Trafalgar du Morgain. The legendary swordsman. The cursed heir. The tragic side story no one cared to fix.Discarded by his clan. Humiliated by his siblings. Dead by suicide before the main plot even began.Guess who woke up in his body?Yeah. Me.Now I’m stuck in a game world that had zero lore, zero guidance, and zero chance of survival — except for the broken-ass Talent I somehow unlocked.I’ll kill, steal, lie, betray—whatever it takes.If survival means blood on my hands, then so be it.I didn’t choose this world, but I’m not going to let it chew me up and spit me out.I’ll climb over corpses if I have to. I’ll become the villain, the monster, the nightmare they never saw coming.Because in this world, there’s only one rule that matters: survive or die.And I’m not dying again.~~~More tags: no Yuri, no NTR, transmigration, rarebloodline, no dense mc, dragons, dragon girl, dog girl, vampire, succubus, mana cultivation, cursed heir, academy setting, secret identity, hidden talent, demons, death and rebirth, political intrigue, ancient bloodline, dark fantasy, family conflict.

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.”