MTL - Bigshot Mr. Fu’s Wife is Sweet and Wild - Chapter 978 Improper Fan Shengmei and Fudimo 41

Spot was summoned from his comfortable charging pad and familiar floors to a world of magic and intrigue. After the flight of his new patrons, he is left to care for a filthy castle. During his quest to keep this new home clean, he will face demons, foreign armies, and the dreaded stairs.All those who stand before him will be swept away. Those who follow his spotless trail will find enlightenment, purity, and a world on its knees.Follow this wholesome vacuum on his quest to power.

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.

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 world’s worst offense, is called Love.