Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist - Chapter 859: Cave Dwellings, Cultivation Sprints, and Market Whispers

One day, a tower appeared in the skies of all the major cities…

Five years ago, she was the biggest joke in Haishi! Seven months into her pregnancy, she discovered that the man from their passionate night was not her husband-to-be.The man she deeply loved was already having an affair with her sister...Five years later, she returned for revenge with her adorable genius child.To her surprise, the father of the child turned out to be the most powerful man!From then on, she became the most envied woman in the world!Tycoon Qi declared arrogantly: “You hired me for a hundred thousand, now I'm yours for life!”Princess Tian Tian clung to her leg: “Mommy, you've avoided me for five years, but you're finally back to take responsibility!”Prince Momo showers his mom with affection: “Mommy, here's my bank card, spend it as you like”Genius Yuan Bao complained pitifully: “Beauty Ling, you're not favoring only me anymore!”

After all the things that he had done in his life, Alex realized that it was already his time to die.

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.”