Black Iron's Glory - Chapter 328 - Special Independent Tribe

I fell in love. Her name was Shirasaka Yukino. I could only look at her from a distance. However one day I heard that she already had a boyfriend. Even if I love her, I can’t have her. The devil sent me an invitation. I can make her mine!

# WIFE-CHASING“Honey, let’s make a deal.”“What deal?”“From this day forward, I will take care of you the rest of your life while you take care of the rest of me!”“Dream on!”[Sweet conversation of a couple]Four years ago, she left angrily while she was pregnant.Four years later…“Hey, I can see that you are having bad luck, and you get frustrated easily. Sir, you need a wife. My mom is single. Would you like to date her?”The chaste CEO gazed at the mini version of him before him with his dark eyes. He said nothing and brought the child and the mother home.

Ye Qinghan, young master of the powerful Ye Family, gets ostracized when his peerless father meets an unfortunate end. Lacking strength and in a bid to live a Purposeful life, he suffers through the unending ridicule, bullying and torture dealt to him at each turn. However fate is a cruel mistress and offers only pain and misery with no end in sight. Broken, weak and distraught, Ye Qinghan embarks on a journey to usurp the hands of fate and attain strength to protect his own.

Follow Ye Qinghan on his journey fraught with perilous encounters, betrayals and fortune as he seeks to overturn the heavens, defy fate and grasps his destiny in his arms.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”