My Doctor Son-in-law, Clarence - Chapter 172 - Kill Clarence Howard

I am merely a reviewer, albeit the products I review are slightly different. For example, I review quantum computers, artificial intelligence, anti-gravity mech armor, planetary engines, sublight colonial ships, stellar detonators, etc…

After marriage—On Valentine's Day, Han Jingnian asked, “How are we spending today?”Wrapped up in her blanket and close to falling asleep, Xia Wan'an mumbled, “Sleep.”On Christmas Day, Han Jingnian asked, “How are we spending today?”With her arms around her pillow, Xia Wan'an casually replied, “Sleep.”On their wedding anniversary, holding a cup of water, Han Jingnian asked, “How are we spending today?”Cozied up in bed, with sleepy eyes, Xia Wan'an looked at Han Jingnian, wary of the water he might spill on the bed. She thought for a moment, then replied, “With you... together.”

Strength: 1Agility: 1Stamina: 1Magic Power: 20Luck: 1All my stats are dumped into Magic Power.I can only use one spell.There’s no character as broken as this, and yet, that’s me.And somehow, I got mistaken for a once-in-a-lifetime genius.

At nineteen, Dexter was already one of the world’s most celebrated authors. His books topped charts. Critics praised his genius. Fans devoured every word. But behind the acclaim was a lonely boy—raised without parents, love, or real friends—just stories.He published his first novel at fourteen. By seventeen, he was a literary star. But the higher he rose, the hollower it felt.Then came the writer’s block. The headaches. The blackout. And the transmigration.Dexter awoke in the body of Daylan, a disgraced young man in a crumbling, medieval world laced with steampunk tech, divine law, and political unrest. Daylan had already failed two of the three sacred Trials—rites that determine one’s magical potential. He was drowning in debt, entangled in plots to overthrow a corrupt Divine Church, and branded a lost cause.With no way back, Dexter took the final Trial—the most brutal of them all—and began a path that would earn him the whispered title: Soldier, Poet, King.But as his powers grew, one question haunted him: Did he truly die? And if so, who—or what—chose to bring him back?