I Became a Scoundrel of a Chaebol Family - Chapter 83

When Yao Ling saved a handsome man, she never thought that there would be a day she would propose a marriage to him.

Suddenly being thrown into the world of the novel and possessing a pretty much fucked up character made him have no choice but to continue his life as a new identity.

And just like any sane person that transmigrated into a book, of course, he would destroy every red flag that stood in his way.

Yet, unbeknownst to him, every single thing he did was just wrecking the storyline more and even more; to the point that the plot had become utterly screwed, thanks to him.

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Setting in the fictional world of Gaia, where special individuals can awaken certain powers within their soul. They are called Arcana Masters.

Some awaken beasts, some awaken weapons, while some awaken the power of plants.

Some people train to become stronger so that they have the power to protect loved ones, some wish to use it for revenge, some wish to live longer, while some want to be free and use their power however they wish.

Yet, there exists a clan, where the descendants only exist to grant death to others so that life and death remain balanced.

Follow the journey of Azrael Garcia, the heir of the cursed clan of Death, as he forms friendships, facing betrayals, meeting love, and cutting down the enemies in the process.

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.”