MTL - Deep Love and Favor: Cold-blood CEO and His Young and Beautiful Wife - Chapter 268 Are you married?

His muscles screamed, his body begged for rest, his mind ordered him to stop. But Bakugo couldn't. Not while Izuku hadn't arrived. So, he pushed forward. Every explosion, every strike, every movement was pure determination, a reflection of his unwavering will to win.For a moment, he felt beyond himself. Fast. Precise. Almost invincible.And then, in the blink of an eye, everything changed. The battlefield vanished, and the pain ceased.It was in that moment that Katsuki Bakugo understood... he had died.Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, images or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.

Bought it right away.

“I suddenly discovered that this world is dangerous today.” Bai Zhi looked grave as he typed out a line of text on his computer.

“When I went out today, I came across some poor guy getting bitten by another person. Luckily, a few brave guys rushed out to bring the criminal to justice, but when the person who was bitten struggled to stand up, he was immediately beaten to the ground by one of those who had supposedly saved him—and then, they called the police! I’ve watched more than enough modern movies to know what happened. The zombie was taken out before the virus could spread.”

“Last time, you told us about a few guys saving humanity from an alien invasion… This time, it’s a zombie outbreak?”

There was an exasperated response from the chat box.

“So how was that dangerous?”

“There are also several girls who are fighting tooth and nail for a piece of me! It’s totally Hell in here, don’t you think it’s dangerous!?”

“???”

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.”