MTL - Valkyrie of the Marvel Universe - Chapter 259 The terrifying beast

Zhou Heng thought the news of an impending solar flare and natural disasters was absurd—until he died in the apocalyptic chaos that followed. Reborn ten days before the end begins, Zhou Heng now knows the truth: earthquakes, tsunamis, plagues, and even zombies will devastate the Earth.Armed with the Doomsday Sanctuary System, he has a chance to rewrite his fate, but there’s a catch—it requires a shelter to activate.With only ten days left, can Zhou Heng gather the resources, fortify his sanctuary, and prepare for the storm of humanity’s collapse?

Su Mian, the forgotten bride, has endured three years as ​Fu Tingzhou’s invisible wife—a man so coldly abstinent, he never even glanced at her. Branded a “murderer’s daughter,” she’s spent her life as a human blood bank for the Su family’s pampered heiress, her true worth buried beneath lies.When Tingzhou finally meets his timid wife, he sees only a gold-digging burden. Her quiet devotion? Ignored. Her shattered heart? Dismissed. He hurls divorce papers at her, snarling, “Disappear.”She obeys… and unravels his icy control.Now, the untouchable CEO is on his knees.Her absence ignites a frenzied, scorching obsession. Fu Tingzhou hunts for the wife he never wanted—only to discover her vanishing act hides earth-shattering secrets: ​switched identities, a hidden lineage, and a woman who’s no longer the meek shadow he discarded.

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.”

Time flies quickly; may you enjoy a cup of drink.I know not the height of the green mountain, nor the depth of the earth.Only watching as the seasons change, that it took people's lives.