Who am I.

What I exist for.

This is a problem.

I am always reflecting on my own life, what kind of life is 'fine' and perfect?

Some say I'm murderous and cold.

Because I don't know what family is, what warmth is, what kindness is, I only know that killing can calm my manic heart, and only the light of peace on the sharp knife is the most delicate persistence in my heart.

And I, with this attachment to life, live in the never-ending dark underground......

I'm afraid of death, I don't want one day, my noble body is crawling with maggots and flies, I will never allow myself to rot in the dark world, live here, there is nothing else to want.

So, I had to hold on to the rusty blade, fight the killers, and the greedy underground merchants, and stick it in the heart of the enemy.

Tomorrow, destined to be another good day to kill, I leaned against the wall that made me feel at peace, and fell asleep soberly.

……

Tyrone, like most Noxians, has a well-defined and striking face. His body is a little thin, his skin is smooth and fair, and his hair is pure black and black, and it is rumored that he has the common blood of Demacia and Noxus.

Tyrone's cheekbones are slightly prominent, his eyes are as sharp as electricity, and his dark black 'colored' pupils seem to hide a chilling sword. His hooked nose is high and straight, as if unyielding, and his lips are slightly thin. Whether it is an old and torn gray 'colored' cloak or a heavily patched black leather shoes, they all silently tell that he is barren and lowly in the underground world. ( Advertisement)

Tyrone, who is thirteen years old this year, is walking aimlessly in the dark underground.

The underworld of Noxus is a haven for gangsters, robbers, and robbers. Fugitives from all over Valoran gather here, where there is a lot of dirty 'trade', full of criminal activities, blood and 'chaos' that make crazy people obsessed, no order, no dignity, if you have a kind and warm heart here, then congratulations, you will be a pile of bones in the sewers in a few minutes. Powerful people can call the wind and rain in the dark world underground, and they can be extremely luxurious. And the guy with low status and no skills is destined to be a small and pitiful worm, beaten and angry, and will eventually be tortured to death in a remote corner, and then no one cares, slowly decaying, and becoming a stench fermented in the air.

Tyrone does not belong to the former, nor does it belong to the latter.

In the hustle and bustle of the dark underground, he did not participate in any organization, but with his wit and skillful stealing skills, he 'mixed' day by day.

He was once asked why he was so young and alone to read. Tyrone was also trapped in 'confusion', but when he searched for the long-term memories of 'chaos', he finally found that relatives were just a luxury word, for this word, the young man could only feel the indifference and disdain from his bones. So, whenever a stinking drunkard joked that Tyrone was a mongger, the boy would always smile and break every bone of him, and throw him into the sewer with a terrible wail. And the mutant rats like "waves" and "tides" are always "excited" by the delicious meals given by teenagers.

The aimless young man suddenly became 'spirited', and he found that two meters away, there was a shirtless and extremely strong man walking towards him.

Tyrone covered his head with a cloak, his long messy hair covered half of his eyes, he didn't care, he just focused on the big man, and the dim light scattered on the gray cloak, making his existence dispensable.

A grim smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

The food came.

The young man's steps were skillful and steady, and he inadvertently brushed in front of the strong man, this little giant who was two meters tall, with a bare head and bruises on his muscles and flesh, did not make Tyrone feel a trace of fear and fear. He swept lightly, but not even a hint of a breeze was raised. In the middle of the sound, Tyrone disappeared in the dark 'shadow' in the corner of the wall in the distance, and there was actually a flat money bag in his hand.

Tyrone seemed to have done something insignificant, his face was flat, his eyes were cold, and at some point, he had an extra blade more than a foot long in his left hand, and he squeezed the money bag with his right hand. This is an extremely ordinary, so ordinary that no one will pick it up if it is thrown on the ground. The surface of the blade is scattered with dark yellow rust, and it looks like it has fallen into the grave, and even the rats can't kill it. However, only Tyrone himself knows the horror of this knife, its edges are so sharp that it won't even stain a drop of blood after killing someone.

The blade touched the belt, and no one resisted, and three golden coins rolled out of it.

The young man put the gold coin in his mouth, his teeth moved slightly, and then his sharp eyes burst out with a cold glow, and suddenly said angrily: "Counterfeit money mixed with brass, this damn poor ghost. ”

This kind of counterfeit money mixed with brass is extremely common in the underworld, and some 'confused' merchants have always been unable to distinguish gold coins from counterfeit coins, resulting in counterfeit money running rampant, so it still has circulation value, and Tyrone now only hopes that these three damn coins will 'fool' the eyes of an unlucky guy.

However, the three counterfeit coins did not spoil Tyrone's mood, and he hummed a little song, carefully pinning his knife into the cowhide scabbard hanging from his waist, this black 'colored' scabbard had obviously been carefully polished by its master, and although it had faded a little, it matched the rusty blade so perfectly that it could not even find a trace of unpleasant flaw.

Tyrone loves this knife, far beyond his own 'life'.

Perhaps a few years ago, an old man with a knife rescued him from tyrannical thugs, and he fell in love with the sharpness and power of the knife. When he was obsessed, he took the rusty, but still dazzling blade from the old man's hand, he couldn't stop trembling, and then stabbed it into the old man's heart!

Whenever he thinks of this interesting thing, Tyrone's heart 'tide' can't help but surge, that dirty strange old man, when he was pierced through the heart by himself, his face turned out to be peaceful and gratifying.

Hahaha...... Your cruelty and decisiveness... Let me see hope, kill well... Kill a good man... Take my knife and I want you to inherit it and become... Become the next generation of Blade Shadows!

How many years passed, Tyrone could not remember which gutter the old man had been kicked into by himself in the end, he only remembered the thrill of twisting the handle of the knife at that time, the thrill of churning and chopping his heart, even beyond the pleasure of venting on the body of a prostitute.

However, the old man's words were like a spell in the night, and the sentence with an almost distorted expectation made Tyrone recall that dream over and over again countless nights, recalling the old man's serene and contented face.

"Is that dream again?"

The crimson man opened his eyes soberly, he shook his head slightly, tiredly stroked the silver dragon ruling, those cold eyes as sharp as blades, through the overwhelming atmosphere of the Purgatory Arena, stared indifferently into the pitch-black passage not far away.

The current king of the Noxian assassins, Tyrone the Shadow of the Blade, has another kind of sparkle in his cold and unforgiving eyes, a concentration that is both sleepy and interesting.

"The fusion of demon refining ice and runes, commonly known as the Ice Demon Man, Wu Wenxu, now I want to see if you can get out of the way."

Blade Shadow gradually pulled out an inexplicable smile in his self-talking narration: "If you can defeat the Rune Fusion now, maybe after my death, the teacher's 'Throat Cutting Battle' will have no successor." ”

(The City of Faith chapter has officially kicked off, and the moon promises that it will be worthy of everyone's support, thank you)