The CEO Is the Daddy to Triplets - Chapter 31

In the waves of steam and machinery, who could achieve extraordinary? In the fogs of history and darkness, who was whispering? I woke up from the realm of mysteries and opened my eyes to the world.

I was betrayed in my first life.A cripple, broken and discarded—I died after catching the one I loved in bed with the only person I ever called a friend.That was the start of real torment.When I woke up, it was in another world.A goddess stood before me.She told me I could go back.Back to my world.Back to everything I lost.All I had to do… was play my part.The side character.And I did.I followed the script.Played my role to perfection.They hated me.Mocked me.Used me.Again and again.But I kept going. Because I believed her.Because I wanted to go home.Then one day, I found out.The hard way.It was all a lie.There was no going back.There never was.She used me.Again.Just like everyone else.Thrown away like trash once I outlived my usefulness.That was the day something inside me snapped.And so, I made a vow.I would take everything from her.I would enslave every single heroine she chose.And I would kill the hero she placed all her hopes on.If she wanted to protect this world…Then I would burn it down.But the more I tried, the more things started to change.And then one day—I found one of the heroines.One of the hero's yanderes I had enslaved.She stood there, trembling, a knife in her hand.“You’re not going anywhere,” she whispered, eyes wild.“I won’t let them have you. You belong to me.”...What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening?!

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.”

In a fantasy world where martial artists can split mountains and creeks with a wave of their hand and break rivers with a kick, there exists a little restaurant like this.

The restaurant isn’t large, but it is a place where countless apex existences will rush into.

There, you can taste egg-fried rice made from phoenix eggs and dragon blood rice.

There, you can drink strong wine brewed from vermillion fruit and water from the fountain of life.

There, you can taste the barbecued meat of a ninth grade supreme beast sprinkled with black pepper.

What? You want to abduct the chef? That’s not going to happen, because there’s a divine beast of unfathomable level, the Hellhound, lying at the entrance.

Oh, that chef also has a robotic assistant that killed a ninth grade supreme being with a single hand and a group of crazy women whose stomachs were conquered.