MTL - Devouring The Heavens - v2 Chapter 2169 Haoran Changhe

Shu Wan, the most outstanding daughter of a high-status family from a feudal dynasty, travels a thousand years into the future, becoming the new lady of the Fu family in the capital.------Her husband in name has gone overseas to explore markets, leaving behind a rebellious son whose name resounds throughout the capital.------Upon first meeting, the rebellious son speeds past on a motorcycle with his silver-white hair flying, “Isn't that my stepmother who's 6 years older than me? Skinny arms and legs, but with grand ambitions.”Before he finishes, Shu Wan leaps up and plucks him off the motorcycle with one hand, “Watch your mouth.”------Fu Yang is consistently at the bottom of his grade, especially with his Chinese language scores never passing 50.Shocked by his atrociously written exam papers, Shu Wan asks, “Are you even Chinese?”Fu Yang is defiant, “Aren't you a dimwitted academic failure yourself, what right do you have to criticize me?”Yet the next second, as Shu Wan smoothly writes down 'Ancient Prose Paragon' with a brush, it's Fu Yang's turn to be astonished.Isn't she a walking dictionary?------Fu Siyu returns from his overseas expansion earlier than expected, thinking he would come home to chaos.However, upon entering the door, he sees the usually defiant Fu Yang sitting obediently practicing his calligraphy with a perfect score exam paper beside him.And his reputedly timid wife, in a sleek black high-slit dress, confidently struts to the music, drawing the attention of everyone.But none of that is the focal point. The focus is on Fu Siyu's gaze, sharp as a knife, directed toward the dance partner's hand resting on Shu Wan's lower back, “Let go.”Note: The son is not the biological child of the male lead.

She killed his wife, destroyed his reputation, and ran off with his son. 8 years later, she returned home with her genius son, who already had a fiancée. “Give me the child, or you can’t afford the price.”“A girl who eats meat and vegetables doesn’t suffer, if you want a child, find yourself a woman to give you one.”

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.”

When a person dies, they either die light as a feather (aka unimportant) or heavy as Mt. Tai (aka very important).