MTL - Young Master Gu, Please Be Gentle - v2 Chapter 2278 You are my hot sun (478)

“I beg you, please teach me how to pick up female angels!!!”
Pleaded the twelve-winged angel.

“Teacher!! How can I fool more people into my sect?”
Asked a devil in the devil world.

“Do you know how to save the family cat that died last night?”
Someone in the sky is too embarrassed and asks me quietly.

“All the angel, all the big deity, please I am not God, I am really just a summoner….”
I said painfully.

This is the story of a poor boy and how he becomes the greatest summoner who dominates the six worlds because of an accidental acquisition of Dimension.

- Description from Novelupdates

After drowning in a swimming pool, Randy awakens in an oriental fantasy world, transmigrated as Hu Shengyi, the youngest son of a humble family. In his new life, Hu Shengyi possesses a weak and pale body, an ungraceful face and a small penis. He hoped that this transmigration would be an opportunity to start his life anew, the darkness of depression enveloped him, even with the unconditional love of his mother and older sisters. Unable to cultivate magical abilities or develop powers, Hu Shengyi decides to end his life.But just before he takes the final step, a mysterious message appears, like something out of a video game: “Welcome to the Onahole System.”[Additional Tags]Anal, BBW, Big Ass, Big Breasts, Blowjob, Chastity Belt, Dark Skin, Dickgirl on Male, Femdom, Full-packaged Futanari, Futaket, Futanari, Glasses, Group Handjob, Huge Breasts, NTR, Cuckold, Threesome, Foursome, Hardcore, Milf, Gilf, Young & Mature, BDSM, Dual Cultivation, Incest.

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.”

When a person dies, they either die light as a feather (aka unimportant) or heavy as Mt. Tai (aka very important).