My Maids Are All Antagonists! - Chapter 60 - How Did the Leader Grow Goat Horns!?

Through an array of coincidences, Alex comes to learn that making pills is one of the best ways to earn money in the game, 'Eternal Cultivation.'

Su Aobai used to be a bad son. In the men’s slap in the face, he was a rich second generation who was outstanding in everything, but he lost his wits when he met the male protagonist. His family was wiped out, and the overbearing father was pissed to death; , he is the second generation of Xiu with excellent talent, the hero who was abolished because of a woman’s ridicule, and the woman retired the marriage. In the end, the hero came back once he got the opportunity, and destroyed his sect, and the father of the suzerain died…

Now, Su Aobai has become an old father, and has children who are as miserable as he was back then.

Su Aobai refused at first, and the system promised him that he would be rewarded if he raised the favorability of his children. After that, he became really popular.

Sure enough, what’s the point of being a son, the father is the most embarrassing

Tentative world:
World One: Educated Youth Dad (End)
World II: Prodigal Dad (End)
World 3: Foolish and Filial Man in Fu Baowen (End)
World IV: Redemption Text Dad (End)
World Five: Apocalyptic Trash Dad (End)
World Six: Ruanfan Men Don’t Be White-eyed Wolves (End)
World Seven: The National Husband of a Gold Digger (End)

Content tags: face slap system fast travel cool text
Search keywords: Protagonist: Su Aobai ┃ Supporting role: sons and daughters ┃ Others:

- Description from novelbuddy

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.”