MTL - God Level Demon - Chapter 2852 All suppression

Important notice, The Prodigal Son of the Ming Dynasty, also known as “Ming Song”.

Hongzhi eleven years.

It’s a beautiful morning.

At this time, Zhu Houzhao was just an adult.

At this time, Wang Shouren and Tang Bohu were sharpening their swords and preparing for the imperial examination.

At this time, the Little Ice Age has come, and the long and severe cold is raging on the earth.

At this time in Nanhebo’s mansion, Fang Jifan, the idiot son of the landlord’s family and Nanhebo’s direct heir…began his shameless prodigal life.

- Description from novelbuddy

Unconditional obedience to him? Dream on! Regrettably, after marrying Tang Yuchen, An Ruo's daily thoughts were of escape, escape, and more escape! Someone grew furious, “You want to flee? The only way out is if you die, or I perish!” Fine, she chose death! Yet he laughed wickedly, “Woman, do you intend to kill the son in your womb?”

This is a time of great powers: The vast Persia, Sparta that is founded by force, Athens with its trade and business, Thebes the rising star, The ambitious Macedonia, The twin heroes of the Western Mediterranean, The rising Rome and so on.

This is an era of brilliant stars: Agesilaus II – the last king of Sparta, Epaminondas – the Rising General of Thebes, Philip II – the founder of Macedonian hegemon, Dionysius – the tyrant of Syracuse, Camillus – the Roman dictator and savior…

This is an era of contention among a hundred schools of thought: Plato – the great philosopher, Antisthenes – founder of cynicism, Pythagoras – school of number, Democritus – the encyclopedia scholar, Hippocrates – the father of western medicine, Aristophanes – the great dramatist…

What will the hero bring to the world when he comes to this age as a humble mercenary through rebirth?

- 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.”