Eternal life begins with saving my clan - Chapter 452: Time To Return Home.

Warning! This novel is mindless and vulgar. If you don't like this kind of thing, please don't read it. My name is Silent, and I'm a senior high school student at an ordinary high school in Qingyuan City. One day, I unexpectedly awakened the [Tag System], which completely changed my life. I labeled my mother, younger sister, childhood sweetheart, and best friend from the next class, but why did they all turn into perverted girls...?

Seo-Joon, who had been working to save money in order to pay off his dead parents’ debt and attend a hunter academy, ended up needing to spend all his savings on a surgery due to an unfortunate accident.In his moment of despair, a weird advertisement played.[You can also become an awakener!]He decided to register since he had nothing else to lose.[Mr. Kim Seo-Joon, welcome to Transcension Academy.]This hunter academy is on a completely different ‘dimension’ than the rest!In the age of private hunter education, you can also become a ‘transcender.’

Gu Shanhai saw the great world of the heavens, and took the life of the third life.

The gods of the world forged an eternal Utopia with blood and fire.

The Red Dragon King led his knights to inspect the dynasty on which the sun never sets.

Scholars talked and laughed and swung their swords to draw thousands of miles of rivers and mountains, and strange demons opened their eyes and clawed to give birth to ghosts and monsters.

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“Everyone is a player, you can’t call me abnormal because I don’t have digitization?”

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”