MTL - Happiness Consist in Contentment - v18 Chapter 24 (25)

Freshman student Yang Dingtian possesses the Nine Yang Body, found only 1 in million. His Yang Fire is incomparably vigorous and thus, he cannot be near a female’s charms for his entire life. On the night of his 19th birthday, he decided to bid farewell to his virgin life. After stealing and tasting the forbidden fruit, he spontaneously combusted as the result!

In death he crossed over to another world; a world that held respect for Martial Power. His, originally, catastrophic Nine Yang Body was the Nine Yang Body that couldn’t be seen in a millennium! He was saved by a mysterious old man when he was at his last moments and the old man received him for a disciple, then betrothed his daughter to him. Thus, in this odd way, Yang Dingtian became the successor of the largest clan under Heaven, and became the number-one-beauty-under-heaven’s fiance.

- Description from Novelupdates

This novel is about the young master of the Du clan, Du Shaofu, who was born with crippled veins and is unable to cultivate martial arts . After finding out about his situation from the clan while returning home he got hit by a lightning and a mysterious ‘first scripture’ appears and after studying for ten years he was able to mend his crippled veins together and starts his journey to glory.

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

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.”