Manaless Mage - Chapter 139 Team Event[1]

In the twenty-ninth year of the First Emperor, Bo Langsha was attacked.

When Ying Zheng merged the memories of the 21st century history doctor, looked at the mighty mountains and rivers in front of him, and said to himself, “In this life, my Daqin can’t die!”

- Description from novelbuddy

I possessed the weakest character in my favorite game’s Hell Mode. I want to survive, but the way the main character is being controlled is atrocious.

It can’t be helped.

I have to stop the bad ending myself.

Above the firmament, a giant Kun, stretching thousands of meters long, flew over the city, ignoring the barrage of missiles.In Australia, an apocalyptic serpent, thousands of meters long, destroyed cities and devoured millions, leaving slowly after the detonation of several nuclear bombs.In this perilous world, Chen Chu, who unexpectedly acquired the avatar of a six-horned salamander, felt somewhat bewildered.What could a palm-sized salamander do? Record videos to gain traffic? Catch shrimps in a creek? Or... evolve into a colossal beast?A six-horned salamander, also known as the six-horned dragon, with the ability of infinite evolution, was gradually evolving into a mythical apocalyptic beast.Its body length extended to hundreds, thousands, and even tens of thousands of meters...And with the characteristic of synchronized enhancement, Chen Chu's own body also grew stronger, with increasing power and speed, and even...

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.”