MTL - Too Early - v2 Chapter 1608 Perseverance is the heart of the devil

When we met for the first time in our first year of high school, he saw my contempt, but silently continued to clean;

A Few Words : All the love that is not worth the applause is rogue and unrestrained.

Shen Qi : If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands.

Gong : Papapa!!!

- Description from Novelupdates

The sky was painted gray forever. The light of the sun was restrained. The darkness of the night was deeper than ever. At such a time, he belonged to a class people didn’t even recognize as ’human’. He was at the bottom of the social stratum, a slave. And when his only family was taken away from him... he no longer had a purpose in life. Yet, he clung to life because of his promise. And he set an impossible goal for himself, just so he’d have an excuse to live. When he finally reached a place he never expected to be, in pursuit of a purpose he expected to fail and die miserably trying to fulfill... he awoke to a night that would change his entire life. He was an insignificant fly, a mere speck in the destruction of the Empire. But he... survived. And, despite being a slave, he gained the blessing of a king. Or rather, the curse...

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.”