I Just Became a Purple-Robed Celestial Master and a Thousand Year Old Fox Spirit Wants to Enter My Bridal Chamber - Chapter 21 - Ghost: Stop the Bus! We’re Getting Off!

“Seven years later, she returned with her baby

”Give me the child, and you can name a price!“

”Spring only sows the seeds. When it comes to autumn, you want to obtain a son. Heh, man, aren't you thinking too simply!“

”If you want me to call you daddy, then you have to show your ability to chase after my mommy. The man that my mommy likes is my daddy! “Otherwise, there's no need to talk about it!”

Zhao Yesui runs a private custom shop, and his job is to customize death for others.

On a certain day of a certain year, when he customized an exclusive death for a customer as always, he found himself involved in a game of death with no end in sight.

What surprised Zhao Yeshi even more was that, unlike other players, he seemed to be able to extract identities in the game?

However, as he extracted more and more identities, trouble also followed.

The NPCs in the game… chased after him in reality.

Not only that, but many of his identities are also known to everyone by word of mouth.

Such as Legendary Investigator, Unthinking Juggernaut, Archon of Fantasy Kingdom, Lord of Steam, Weaver of Fate, Loving Father, Lord of Death and Soul, etc.

And those women with prestigious titles also followed, the queen of the fantasy country, the ruling angel who called herself a bad woman, the immortal of Shenzhou who inherited the precious blood…

In this regard, Zhao Yejia could only deny it righteously, and packed up and ran away to escape the end of his own blood.

- Description from novelbuddy

What happens when one eats Death?

Personally, I don’t really know. What I do know is merely one thing.

I’m hungry.

Therefore, I’ll take the heads of these guys and deliver them to my superiors.

Surely, I’ll be able to eat delicious food.

Come, if preparations are in order, we depart.

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.”