Rise of the Great Emperor - Chapter 62: Killing Su Han

James Ye is a son-in-law everyone looks down upon, but no one knows his true identity is that of a young master from a top family.Those who scorn him will ultimately kneel before him, calling him 'Master' in awe and fear!

Framed by her family, she had an accident, and found herself pregnant!Five years later, she came back strong, determined to crush those who wronged her and reclaim her child!Her genius son paves the way, swiftly bringing her to the top of the food chain, with influential figures bowing to her!But she never expected that the autistic little girl she unexpectedly met would bring her a troublesome big boss!Before marriage, he holds the little genius's hand, declaring, “Buy a kid, get a dad for free, no deception, unrivaled in punishing scumbags!”After marriage, he kneels on durians with the child, saying, “Sweetie, I'm sorry, our hidden identities have been all exposed...”

Wake up and an unknown door has appeared in your home… Behind each door is a completely unfamiliar world.In the nightmare world, Jiang Cheng relays the news from the Hunk to the Fatty, adding his own spin to the story.The Fatty almost cried in fear hearing it.“My whole family will be strung upside down for blood-letting if I die here?”“That’s what I heard.”“Then, how come you don’t look scared at all?” The fatty widened his eyes.Jiang Cheng turned around and replied in a very formal tone, “Because I’m an orphan.”

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.”