Bloodhound's Regression Instinct - Chapter 251

Qin Xiaoyao once crossed and became the new daughter-in-law of the Song family who had just entered the door of the broken house in Xiashui Village.

In this family, the mother-in-law is not healthy, and the sister-in-law and brother-in-law are young. The beautiful and cheap husband was injured and couldn’t even get out of the bed.

The family lived in a shabby thatched hut and ate rice soup that was so rare that no grains of rice could be seen.

And the reason why the Song family was so miserable was because of her.

Just because she, the youngest daughter of the butcher’s family, fell in love with the beautiful reading man of the Song family, and asked her father to force the marriage by debt.

But she finally got her wish and got married to Song Que, but she couldn’t bear the poverty and killed herself as a demon.

Looking at his fat body with a big waist and a round waist, Qin Xiaoshan sighed that it was really a toad that had eaten the meat of a swan.

And she’s a good coincidence, now she’s the toad~~

The heroine: A woman of the end of the world, a powerful person with powers, Yan control, and cleverness.

Male protagonist: The reborn, the black lotus with black heart and poisonous hands.

Hilarious, strong women and strong men, welcome relatives to enter the pit.

I recommend the end of the article “Nongmen Spicy Wife: Buy a Friend to Farm”, thank you for your support!

This article assumes that one penny is equal to one dollar in the 21st century, and one tael of silver is equal to one thousand cents. A pound is equal to ten taels.

- Description from novelbuddy

Kenichi Yamada was a 35-year-old salaryman. As a hardcore game enthusiast, he was saddened by the modern trend towards casual games.So, when a site claimed to be “for people who like to do things the hard way,” he just couldn’t resist. Thus, he was reincarnated into another world as Allen, playing on Hell Mode.This is fantasy light novel about Allen’s journey as a summoner.Reincarnated as a serf, he starts from nothing.His journey begins with absolutely no knowledge of the world around him, just like those games he played 10, 20 years ago.

Lorelai is an unwanted princess; a puppet in the hands of the royal family.Born weak and raised loyal only to her kingdom, she has no real power and is constantly abused by both her stepmother and her son.Her value lies in one thing only––marriage. Thus, she is to marry Duke Kalder, an old but powerful and influential man whose previous wives have all gone missing under mysterious circumstances.That is until she meets him.Tall, dark, strong, mysterious, irresistible, seductive.The King of Lycans. The King of Beasts. The Gypsy King.One who was once a slave now controls the biggest and strongest, most feared kingdom of the continent. And for some reason, he has his eyes set only on Lorelai.Important note: this is a historical fantasy novel and in its context, the word “Gypsy” is only used as a name of a nomad tribe and is not used as a slur.

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.”