My Dangerous Billionaire Husband - Chapter 63: Shaoming, It’s Your First Time Meeting Mom, Talk Nicely

There once was a very popular question on the internet:

If one morning, you woke up and realized that your gender had changed, what would be your first reaction?

And someone on the internet had famously responded:

First, give your bros a good time!

Su Jian remembered that when he saw this reply, he had slapped the table to express his admiration. What a good bro! Such loyalty!

But now that he actually encountered this strange situation himself, he could only feel an extremely ball-breaking alarm, shocked grief, and frightened anger. **** your mom! Ah, ****! **** it!

Oh, a correction. The above is grammatically incorrect. After all, poor Classmate Su Jian doesn’t have balls anymore.

A millennium had passed, and everything had lost its meaning in his eyes. Many heroes emerged from generation to generation, but he stood the test of time. That was his life, waiting for someone to come along and defeat him, but no one did. Nobody dared. Nobody tried.How can he allow this to happen? With the aid of his magic, he rose from his throne and set out into another world in search of excitement and, perhaps, a worthwhile adventure.What would happen if this last boss decided to venture into the human world for fun?

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.”

Accompanied by all kinds of crisis and despair, was the arrival of mankind’s first significant superhero.