Second World Novel - Chapter 898. Hidden Treason

After losing his job, Bai Liu became involved with an unstoppable horror live streaming game full of various monsters and players with killer intent.

Initially, everyone thought Bai Liu was just an ordinary person who strayed into the game.

Later, they realized it was this game that welcomed its god with victory and a laurel crown. It said to Bai Liu, “Welcome home.”

He is very cold and passionate, Mu Yanwang, who means what he says. He has always regarded women as dirt but she, he has only spoiled her.

Lin Yan had transmigrated into the world of Immortals and had become a Heavenly Emperor who was already defeated by the Male Lead along with the ten Female Leads at the beginning of the plot.

But as Lin Yan was about to die, he awakened a power that he could use to rewrite his past doings.

So, Lin Yan has begun to rewrite his past.

When Lin Yan was still a child, he struggled to feed Xiao Yanran, one of the female leads, who was then younger than him. He had to strip his Supreme Bone and give it to her, protect her from the obstacles. He made a vow, “As long as I am here, no one will be allowed to bully you.”

Later when Lin Yan’s cultivation rose , he had run into Xiao Mei, yet another heroine, and the two of them spent time together and eventually got married. When the Devils were about to invade their world, Lin Yan said staring right into his wife’s eyes, “I will protect you with my life…”

And soon he rose to become the Heavenly Emperor.

Everything he did was to shelter his loved ones and to protect the world.

However, his actions were misunderstood by the world.

…

Let’s see what all Lin Yan had done in the past…

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.”