Epic of Bee - Chapter 9 A Great Evil

She fought in the Battle of Changping and witnessed the killing of hundreds of thousands. She once led the Qin Iron Calvary and battled against the Six Kingdoms. She has seen a third of the land and witnessed the breaking of mountains and rivers. The sound of a grand zither and the light of a great female emperor. A prosperous world that was forged on the battlefield. Yet, these two thousand years are forgotten from history.

- Description from Novelupdates

A legendary powerhouse of his generation, tired of the bustle of the peak, returned to the ordinary city and started a new life as an ordinary teacher. He wrote the legend in the city.

Magnificent mountains and rivers, the rising powerful ones. Some ancient martial art masters stood at the peak, becoming legendary. Some financial crocodiles rose up in the minuscule places, laughing arrogantly.

However, watching the school beauties was better than fighting and killing; educating was better than fighting for fame.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.”