Tyrannical Tycoon Haunts Me Relentlessly - Chapter 453: Then Devote Yourself to Me (Part 9)

The name Zhao Tie Zhu (lit. Zhao Steel Pillar) sounded pretty unrefined. But, when it came to his nickname, Phantom, it could be said that everyone in the assassin societies around the world know it. Nowadays, the world was too peaceful, and because of that, the assassination business wasn’t going well. Hearing real estate could earn you good money, Zhao Tie Zhu bought a huge villa, and became the legendary landlord.

He only rented his villa to single women. Zhao Tie Zhu posted renting advertisements on a well-known social website, and with that, women all came one after the other to his villa. The prettiest in schools, the prettiest in police teams, and all sorts of beauties came into his surroundings.

Proclaiming himself as hegemon of campuses, unifying the underworld. All so that the tenants would live in even more content.

I am a very responsible landlord — Said the Zhao Tie Zhu who was stepping on countless skeletons of the enemy.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”

The absurd adventure story of Ian, a wizard in a medieval fantasy world.

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