Inheritance of Two Trillion - Chapter 80 - Heaven Does Not Hide The Wicked What Does It Have To Do With Me!_1

“Why is this [Summoning Card: Goblin] wearing a mask?”

“Because it’s a Goblin Gangster!”

Liam feels increasingly suffocated by debt, paralyzing shyness, and the monotony of everyday life. However, everything falls apart when he is falsely accused of a crime and is on the verge of being expelled from university. But as he's wandering hopelessly back home, a strange voice echoes in his head, informing him that he has received the “Harem App.”Suddenly, his life is turned upside down, and he now has supernatural powers to win over beautiful women. At the same time, he finds himself entangled in conflicts far beyond those of a mere human.

Kim Jeongjin, an editor of a publishing company on the brink of closing due to bankruptcy, ends up transmigrating inside a fantasy novel as the incompetent youngest son of a wealthy family.

And here he thought that he should live a rich life in this life…

“Why was I given a high-level skill? Don’t even bother!”

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.”