Pretending To Be God - Chapter 31: Speech Part 1

The Baron’s daughter, Alessandra Barrett, has worn a mask from a young age due to an injury. Many say if you were to see the face behind the mask, you would be cursed and die soon afterward. She is seen as a ghost, avoided by all who visit the baron’s home until she becomes the Duke’s wife.

No one could understand why the Duke would pick such a wife. Did he wish to die?

What would become of the girl who once hid in the shadows but now had the spotlight on her as the Duke’s masked wife?

What would everyone say if they were to learn the truth that she was in a contracted marriage with the Duke?

Depressed by life, disappointed with relationships, and piles of regrets, just when Shaan was at the end of his rope, his soul was offered another shot at salvation!Starting afresh in an unfamiliar place, by sheer luck, Shaan stumbled upon a treasure that could help him hop between zombie and cultivation worlds.“There is shortage of food and resources in the apocalyptic world?”-“It’s okay, I will ship them from another world.”“You said, a zombie horde is coming?”-“It’s okay, I shall call my undead legion.”Facing countless vicious zombies alone that could bring goosebumps, Shaan stood defiantly with a crazy greed in his eyes.With amazing new powers….Turning his blissful desires into reality, becoming an overlord overnight, and buying to your heart’s content, Shaan’s new life shall be perfect.And if someone stands against his eccentric dream?Then, Shaan is sorry in advance for sending them to the afterlife![No Yuri] [No NTR][The book will slowly introduce the toxic female lead with proper pacing.]

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.