Sacrificial Artifact System: From Bell-ringer to the Ancestral Patriarch of the Sect - Chapter 186 - 147: Demon Sacrifice (Please vote with monthly tickets)_2

His name was Brayden Neal, and he was an ordinary citizen. At eighteen years old, he was bestowed the title of a king!

After ten years of fighting in the northern borders outside the kingdom, he finally returned home. He swore to kill three people the moment he arrived at the capital…

Shi Qing’s task was to be a protector.

【Global game starts】

[First round, low-level zombie doomsday]

【Put all humans in the target world】

[Mission: Survive for thirty days and accumulate 1,000 points]

・・・・・・

Su Changxing’s eyes turned dark and he came to a dilapidated city. Outside the door was a zombie that could break in at any time. He was terminally ill and fell into absolute danger, and accidentally discovered the point discount store in his mobile phone. .

The fate of everyone has been reshuffled, and the rules of the world have been disrupted and recast.

- 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.”