I'll Come Clean! I Am The King Of Lolan! - Chapter 51 - It’s Good to Have Connections!

Medieval times, warring knights, dragons, demons, gods, pirates, behemoths...Barbaric, ignorant, backward, numb, starvation widespread, people unable to make a living...Damn it! Punch to explode this era!!Reclaiming wilderness, farming, bridge building, road paving, coal mining, excavating minerals!Leveling up, recruiting apostles, forging an army!Barrage troops! Pushing horizontally!Quack! My steel torrent is invincible in this world!!Roman: “I am your destiny! Kneel before me!”So, you were supposed to farm, but somehow you ended up establishing a vast empire and becoming the emperor?

High school student Misumi Makoto is called into a fantasy world by the god Tsukuyomi, in order to be a hero. However, the Goddess ruling the world isn’t as thrilled to have him there, and kicks him to the edge of the world. Tsukuyomi declares that Makoto is free to find his own way after Makoto is abandoned by the other Goddess.

She, the unfavoured adopted daughter of the Lin Clan, was just a pitiful little girl who had to live under someone else's roof.

And he, son of the richest man in the country, tall, handsome, and cold and evil.Originally, the two of them had not interacted at all.

However, due to a coincidence, she had become his wife.She had originally thought that she was only being used by him, but he would actually be a wife-doting man!

Whoever dared to bully her would be annihilated by him!

He was extremely overbearing outside, yet he was more like a hungry wolf in bed.

She couldn't bear it any longer and wanted to escape, but he blocked her.He lovingly asked, “Wife, you’re already pregnant with my child, where are you going to escape to?”

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.”