MTL - I, Doomsday, Have Been In the Core of the Sun For a Hundred Thousand Years - Chapter 237

An F-Class Hunter.

And on top of that, a F-class older brother who can’t even begin to catch up to the heels of his amazing S-class little brother.

After living a life that fell to pieces and even destroying my little brother’s life,I got another chance by regressing 5 years back. I picked up the resolution:
This time, instead of making those mistakes, I will quietly live my life leisurely .

Is what I thought… but the S-Ranks are all kind of… weird and for some reason I can’t seem to be able to get away at all?

Distant green mountains, a remote village, an ordinary boy struggling to survive, whose mundane life transforms into the path of cultivation. Who is real, and who is fake? Who can accompany the bright moon to the end? The world of immortals begins from here.

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.”

“You want to steal my genes then leave?” He grabbed her and tried to force her to hand over the child that was born three years ago.