The Trashy PD Has To Survive as an Idol - Chapter 9

“Drive this woman out!” "Throw this woman into the sea!” When he doesn’t know Debbie Nian’s true identity, Carlos Huo cold-shoulders her. “Mr. Huo, she is your wife,” Carlos’ secretary reminded him. Hearing that, Carlos gives him a cold stare and complained, “why didn’t you tell me earlier?” From then on, Carlos spoils her rotten. Little did everyone expect that they would get a divorce.

On the day he entered university, the navigation system on his phone started to have the function to automatically search for treasures.

Every time he found a treasure, he would be able to receive a lot of rewards.

“92kg of embezzled products detected. The reward for completing the treasure hunt: 100 million mansions by the Sky Lake.”

“The top celebrity, Xia Qiu, will run into danger soon. The reward for completing fate hunt: 100 million cash.”

“5kg gold detected. The reward for completing treasure hunt: 60% stock of Distant Publishing that’s worth 600 million.”

With the continuous treasure hunts automatically detected on his phone and obtaining the rewards from the hunts, Ye Feng said, “From today onwards, I’ll be the most pretentious bastard.”

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.”

A world filled with heroes with superpowers. A world attacked by calamity fiends. A modern world filled with wonders and dangers.