I Turned Wild After Being Doted On By The Big Bosses - Chapter 52: The Big Boss Asked Him to Save His Breath

The orphan Chen Ziyang from Lower River Village, raised on food from a hundred families, was later adopted by the old Divine Doctor in the village. He learned the “Divine Dragon Controlling Phoenix Technique” and embarked on a monstrous and legendary life.

Father's concubine framed him, coveting the treasure in Lu Chen's hands.His clan siblings were envious, fearful that Lu Chen would threaten his position as the young master of the family!The two colluded, resulting in Lu Chen being gouged in one eye and his Dantian destroyed, leaving him disabled!In such a desperate state, he also faced a life-and-death crisis on the execution stage, but only the maid Qin Yaotiao stayed by his side, willing to live and die with him!Fortunately, he obtained the Hateful Sky Clan's Totem Pupil Bead left by his biological mother, which granted him an unparalleled Pupil Skill cultivation technique and spear skills, allowing him to gradually take revenge for the blood feud and ultimately embark on the supreme path of immortality with Qin Yaotiao!

When the last prodigy level esper on Earth disappeared, Earth was in deep trouble of becoming another species’ colony. The ordinary Han, with his intelligence and hardworking character, was able to make a fortune after “accidentally” stepping into the world of dark net, later purchasing an esper power crystal that brought him the ultimate power that changed the fate of the universe.

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.”